
: ; 





a/kj 



DUNCAN DUNBAR 



JjUrnrfc ai ku (Kanuesi Ipittisirg, 



A SKETCH 



LIFE OF THE LATE PASTOE 



MoDOUGAI ST. BAPTIST CHTJKCII, 



NEW YORK. 



BY JEEEMIAH CHAPLIN. 



l * As poor, yet making many rich." 2 Cor. vi. 10. 



NEW YOKE: 
SHELDON AND COMPANY 

BOSTON: GRAVES & YOUNG. 

1865. 






n 






w 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by 

JEREMIAH CHAPLIN, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts. 





SEP 1 3 1967 




TO THE 









Ulcgcritgal Stmt §aptist Cljrarrlj, 



THIS RECORD 



EARNEST MINISTRY OE THEIR LATE LAMENTED PASTOR 



IS AFFECTIONATELY 



i m w i © ■• Jl "S ft 1 



BY HIS CHILDREN. 



PEEFAOE. 



The lamented subject of this memorial volume left behind 
him little more which could be used in its preparation than 
brief notes and journals, and letters, the result of a long and 
wide correspondence. The main dependence of the compiler 
has been materials furnished by members of the family, and 
by friends in Great Britain and America, who had known Mr. 
Dunbar long and intimately. For the most part, the incidents 
of his early life and of his ministry have been gathered from 
the recollections of his children, to whom, at different times, he 
had related them in his own pleasant and familiar way, for 
their entertainment, and without any thought of their being 
made public. 

They were, however, treasured in the memory or committed 
to writing, that they might at least be preserved from oblivion 
within the circle of which he was so long the beloved centre of 
attraction. 

The task of sketching the life and labors of Mr. Dunbar, — 
undertaken at the request of the family, — has been to the 
author one of considerable delicacy, in view of the intimate re- 
lations that existed between them; and he has therefore pre- 
ferred to let the incidents, which form so large a portion of this 

work, speak for themselves as they came to him from the lips 

(v) 



VI PREFACE. 

and pens of others, rather than attempt many reflections of his 
own. 

As far as possible, the language of contributors to this vol- 
ume has been retained ; and the compiler would here express 
his sincere thanks to friends who have so readily responded 
to his request for information or letters ; and his regret that the 
necessary limits of the work have compelled him to omit much 
which he would gladly have inserted. 

In preparing this volume, he has aimed not only to gratify 
relatives and personal friends, but also, and chiefly, as of greater 
importance, to exhibit an example of singular devotion to the 
best interests of men and the glory of God, in the hope that, in 
some degree at least, that example might speak more w r idely, 
and incite others to like deeds of piety and charity. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 



PAGE 



Birthplace — Boyish Sports — Narrow Escape from Death — First Religious Im- 
pressions — Seeking Ghosts in the Gaick Mountains — State of Religion in the 
Highlands, 3 

CHAPTEE II. 

Lachlin Mcintosh — Persecution for Christ's Sake — Peter Grant — Seeking after 
God — The Laird of Grant — His Justice and Generosity — The Awakened Soul 
— A Blind Leader — Temptation to Suicide — The Deposed Schoolmaster — Led 
to the Cross — Peace in Believing, . 10 

CHAPTER HI. 

Aspirations for a Military Life — Residence in Aberdeen — Marriage — Labors as a 
Layman — Thoughts on Christian Baptism — Desires for wider Usefulness — 
Sails for America — Low State of Evangelical Religion in the British Provinces — 
His Labors in New Brunswick and their Results — Call to Ordination by an In- 
dependent Church — Increased Trials on the Mode and Subjects of Baptism — 
Immersion and Ordination — Settlement in St. George —Labors for the Blacks 
and Indians — Journal, 21 

CHAPTER IV. 

Formation of the New Brunswick Evangelical Society — Sails for Great Britain — 
Journal — Arrival in Glasgow — Hindrance in his Work — Kind Reception and 
Sympathy from Dr. Chalmers, &c. — Journal — Letter, 29 

CHAPTER V. 

Returns to Scotland — Black Harry — Embarks with his Family for America — 
Labors on Shipboard — Provisions Fail — His Faith in God — A Birth in the 
Steerage — Visit from a Whale — Sufferings from Hunger — God in the Storm, . 41 

(7) 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VI. 

Land Ahead — Wrecked on the Coast of Bermuda — Kind Reception — Letters — 
Preaching on the Island, 51 

CHAPTER VII. 

Voyage from Bermuda to St. John — St. George — Renewal of Pastoral "Work — 
Preaching in " Gaelic " — Home-trials in the New World — His Generosity — 
Letter — Crossing the Bay, 57 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Visit to Maine — Preaches at the Bowdoinham Association — Warm Reception 
there — Criticism of the " Fathers," 67 

CHAPTER IX. 

Providential Detention in Nobleboro' — Strong Faith in God — A Dead Church — 
A Great Awakening — Resigns his Charge in St. George, and Accepts a Call from 
the Second Nobleboro* Church — Arduous Labors there — Results, ... 72 

CHAPTER X. 

Removes his Family to Nobleboro* — A Minister's Wife in the Almshouse — The 
Horse Sermon — Goes to South Berwick, on Exchange — A Great Revival — Letter 
to Frederickton — Resigns his Charge in Nobleboro' — Is Recalled — Letters press- 
ing his Return, 77 

CHAPTER XL 

Removes to Portsmouth, N. H. — Previous Efforts to Establish a Baptist Church 
there — Strong Doctrinal Preaching — Opposition from " Christians," and Cal- 
vinist Baptist Church Formed — Independent Congregational Church embraces 
Baptist Yiews — Invite him and his People to unite with them — Helpers raised 
up — Resigns his Charge — Removes to Chester, N. H. — A Perilous Adventure 
— Yisits New York —Called to the First Brooklyn and the North Beriah (Yan- 
dam Street, New York) Churches, 8c 

CHAPTER XII. 

Takes Charge of the Yandam Street Church — Tribute of Mr. W. Seton — Labors 
in Destitute parts of the City — Formation of the Sixteenth Church — Befriend- 
ing Strangers — Preaching Christ in the Prison — Efforts for Convicts, . . 93 



CONTENTS. IX 

CHAPTER XIII. 

The Cholera Summer — Letter of Dr. Dowling — Lahors with the Sick and Dying 

— Is Prostrated with the Disease — Returns to his Work — Careful to Entertain 
Strangers — Second Cholera Summer — God's Wing over the People of his 
Charge, . .... 106 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Voyage to Europe — Tisits his Old Home on the Spey — His Intercourse with the 
People — Labors Publicly and from House to House — Interest in Scotch 
Baptists — A Highland Missionary Meeting — Giving to the Poor Lending to the 
Lord — A Search for Hidden Baptists — Desire to Labor in his Native Land. . 112 

CHAPTER XV. 

First Record of Interest in the Negro — Pro-Slavery Riots of 1834 — His Church 
formed on Anti-Slavery Principles — Associational Letters — The Triennial 
Convention at Richmond (1835) — A Pious Slaveholder — A Distracted Mother 

— A Visitor from Florida — His Model Christian — Ned Dudley — Buying 

Sally — The Rolls Slaves — John D ; how God rewarded his Humble 

Hospitality, 120 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Call and Removal to South Boston — Return to New York — Compassion for the 
Stricken — Charity for the Starving Irish — Letter from Coolany — The Mission 
of a Word — Labors to make the Poor Independent — The Old Ballad-seller — 
A Street Acquaintance — A Charge against ; ' Blackwell's Island " — His Grati- 
tude — ' : Uncle M." — Knowing the Heart of the Stranger — Removal to Phila- 
delphia — to Trenton — Return to New York, 139 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Letter on Unwarranted Interference in Church Affairs, and on Minorities Resist- 
ing Majorities — Confessions of Injudicious Kindness — Extracts from Letters 

— Heaping Coals of Fire — Advice to Young Ministers — A Solemn Provi- 
dence, 163 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Dark Days in McDougal Street — The Cloud Dispelled — A New Trial — Direct 
Answer to Prayer — Discouragement — A Joyful Surprise, .... 173 



X CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Drafts on the Bank of Faith — Care for the Widow and the Fatherless — God's 
Approval of the Work — Mullers Life of Trust, 177 

CHAPTER XX. 

Characteristics of his Preaching — A Sleeping Christian Awakened — Style and 
Manner — Testimony of a Gifted Mind — Cultivation of Family-Feeling in the 
Church — A Dream — A Word in Season — Helping Weary Pastors — Letter 
from a Young Minister — Letter to the Association — Establishes a Weekly Bap- 
tist Newspaper in New York — Deep Interest in Missions — Successful Plan to 
Remove the Debt of the American Baptist Missionary Union — Letter from the 
Secretary, . 187 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Wise to Win Souls — Preaching at the Gaming-Table — The Children's Minister 
— Sympathy with the Little Ones — Playfulness — Incidents — Extracts from 
Letters, 207 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Changing Enemies to Friends — An Opposing Husband Won — An Angry Yisitor 
Converted — Making Peace — Comforting the Aged and Lonely — Regard for the 
Sensibility of the Poor — God's End of the Purse, 218 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Letters of Sympathy, Condolence, and Friendship, to Mrs. Charles S. Stewart — to 
Deacon and Mrs. Dexter — to Mrs. D. — Letter Acknowledging a Present — to 
Rev. Dr. Kennard, 225 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Tenderness as a Father — The Midnight Prayer — Family Letters, . . . 238 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Afflictions — God's Presence as the Comforter — His Mother's Death — A Great 
Sorrow at Home — At Evening-Time it is Light — The Pure in Heart see God — 
Letter after a Great Bereavement — Letters of Sympathy, 24S 



CONTENTS. xi 

CHAPTER XXYI. 

Physical Constitution — Sails for Europe — Arrival — Sight of the Heather — First 
Sabbath in Scotland — The Sacrament of the Lord's Supper — His Interest in 
America — A Church in a Hotel — The Baptistery — Yisit to Arbroath, Brechin, 
and Aberdeen — The Memory of a Voice — Reaches Grantown — The Queen's 
Chamber — Her Majesty Scorned by a Highland Lass — Peter Grant — Sabbath 
Services — A Highland Welcome — Castle Grant — The Haunted Room — The 
Laird of Dalrey and his Scotch Paradise — Elgin — Inverness — Tour of the Cale- 
donian Canal — Aban — S tafia — A Perilous Adventure — The Trosachs — Back 
to Edinburgh — York — London — Paris — Homeward Voyage — A Gale at Sea 
— Home Again — Fresh for Labor — Growing Meet for Heaven, . . . 255 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

Attends the Missionary Meetings in Philadelphia — A Silver Wedding — A Visit to 
Yonkers — Increase of Labor — A Last Parting, ....... 274 

CHAPTER XXVIIL 

His Last Sabbath — Illness — Only Christ — Anxiety for the Church and the 
Country — A Blessed Visit — Setting his House in Order — The Valley made 
Light — Visions of Glory — Safe at Home — Funeral and Burial — Funeral 
Sermon, 286 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

Letters from Early Friends — Tribute of Rev. Octavius Winslow, D. D. — of Rev. 
Howard Osgood — Mr. W. H. S. J. — Deacon Griffith, . . . . . .296 



DUNCAN DOBAE. 



RECORD OF AN EARNEST MINISTRY. 



DUN"OA£T DUKBAK; 



THE EEGORD OP AN EAENEST MINISTRY. 



CHAPTER I. 




Birthplace — Boyish Sports — Narrow Escape from Death — First Religious Impressions — 
Seeking Ghosts in the Guick Mountains — State of Religion in the Highlands. 



JHE river Spey, in the northern Highlands of Scot- 
land, is rapid and circuitous, and dotted at short 
intervals along its course by little islands. In the 
background rise high hills, making the region, 
Strathspey, so picturesquely beautiful, that one 
who looks upon it will never wonder that the 
heart of the Highland Scot is so tenderly wedded to the 
waters, hills, and moors of his native land. H«re is 
Castle Grant, the estate of Lord Seafield, and for many 
generations the home of the " Grants o J Grant." 

Near this castle, on the banks of the Spey, the honored 
and lamented subject of this memoir was born, and here 
were passed the days of his childhood and early youth. 

His father, Thomas Dunbar, occupied a farm on the 
domains of Grant, where he passed a quiet, blameless 



4 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

life, bringing his children up respectably, and giving them 
all the advantages of education which lay in his power. 

The Highland costume and customs prevailed in this 
region in Mr. Dunbar's boyhood, and the old Gaelic was 
still the language of the household. Until he was twelve 
years old, he wore no other dress than the tartan kilt and 
plaid, still so dear to the heart of the clannish Scot, al- 
though now wholly superseded among civilians except as 
a sporting-garb or fancy-dress. 

In his boyhood, Mr. Dunbar was very fond of violent 
out-door sports, and, by his skill and bold daring, made 
himself the head of the mirth-loving u laddies " round the 
Spey. " He was," says a minister, who, a few years 
since, visited Grantown and heard of him from the aged 
men who still remembered him, " as wild as the deer on 
his native hills, perfectly regardless of danger, and a 
stranger to fear. When quite a small boy, he used to go 
to the Spey, push off in a boat into the deepest water, and 
then plunge to the bottom, remaining there till his ter- 
rified companions thought he would never rise again. 
But ere long he would spring into his boat, shake off the 
water, and then dart again into the river. When he had 
had what he called ' a gude bathe/ he would run his boat 
ashore and ' gang ha me.' 

" At other times, he would catch an unbroken colt and 
mount his back. The affrighted creature would bound 
over hill and dale until perfectly exhausted; then he 
would slacken his pace, and his persistent young rider, 
having thus become his master, could usually guide him 
at will. He used to mount any horse he could find, and 
ride standing erect on one foot, occasionally turning a 
somersault on his back as he was galloping off at full 
speed. The last surviving companion of those days says 



NARROW ESCAPE FROM DEATH. 5 

that he often rode in this way from Grantown to Aber- 
nethy, a distance of six miles. 

" Another favorite amusement was to balance himself 
on his head on the 4 Bridge of Spey,' the foaming waters 
rolling beneath him. Old people, seeing these pranks, 
were heard to exclaim : ' Sure the laddie'll brak his banes! 
Wee Duncan will come to nae gude end ; and e'en, gif his 
life should be spared, he'll be gude for naething save a 
mountebank.' " 

His equestrian tricks formed a bond of union between 
him and the young son of the then Laird of Grant ; and 
so agile and skilled was he in the Highland dances that he 
was often invited to the castle to take part in this amuse- 
ment, where he drew forth great praise from the courtly 
guests. Thus his early years were passed in great frivol- 
ity and constant clanger. 

He was naturally full of spirit, ambition, and love of 
adventure ; entering into his sports with the same energy 
and perseverance which characterized him in after life, 
when these traits were consecrated to a holy cause. 

A circumstance occurred at this time, which nearly cost 
him his life, and to which he used in after years to refer 
with great solemnity. 

In the middle of the Spey, near his old home, is a large 
rock, from which one can cast a stone into five counties. 
From this he used to leap when going to bathe. In one 
of these aquatic exploits, being alone, he was seized with 
cramp and found himself sinking. He knew there was 
no mortal helper near, and felt that all was over with him. 
The cold waters encircled him, and he soon found himself 
stretched helplessly on the river's bottom. Perfectly con- 
scious and free from pain, his past life, with all its frivolity 

and sin, rose before him, and he feared to meet God. He 
1* 



6 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

gave up all hope. But in an instant, there appeared to 
his quickened vision a form, robed in dazzling white, com- 
ing down and floating over him. He felt the grasp of a 
hand in his hair, and found himself rising to the surface. 
He opened his eyes again near the rock alluded to, and 
grasped it eagerly for support. He now heard voices 
shouting that a hoj was drowned, and saw men at a 
distance, who, having found clothes but seeing no bather, 
were alarming the neighborhood, that search might be 
made in the river. 

In relating this circumstance not long before his death, 
Mr. Dunbar said the picture of that white-robed form and 
the grasp of its hand were as distinct in his mind then as 
if he had really seen it, and added : "I have often 
thought of this passage in connection with it : c Are they 
not all ministering spirits, sent to minister unto them who 
are the heirs of salvation ? ' God was not done with me 
then. He had work for me to do on earth. And who 
can tell but he sent an angel from his courts to save me ? " 

After this, he was troubled with fearful dreams and 
convictions of sin. Among his papers is the following 
with reference to this period : " The first religious impres- 
sion I remember to have felt was at the age of twelve or 
thirteen years, when hearing a missionary preach near 
where my father lived. I was so inattentive to the dis- 
course that I cannot remember his text nor any particu- 
lar truth he advanced. But so it was, that on the way 
home my soul was filled with horror from a sense of guilt, 
which I got somewhat over by resolving to give up my 
play and to read the Scriptures. This I attended to 
when I reached home. I read that afternoon ; but in the 
night had dreadful thoughts of eternity. This was, how- 
ever, of short duration ; and my mind soon became as 



GHOSTS IN THE GAICK MOUNTAINS. 7 

dead and insensible as ever. I do not recollect to have 
had one serious thought from that time during the space 
of three years, when I remember hearing one L — D — , 
a young minister, whose discourse left some impressions, 
which I think led me to pray for a day or two ; but this, 
too, was soon forgotten." 

There was not a little superstition mingled with the 
sound, practical common-sense of the Highlanders of that 
day. With this he had no sympathy ; even in his boy- 
hood taking great pleasure in showing that he was fear- 
less of " bogles," " banshees," and the like terrific myths ; 
and he often amused himself by playing upon the fears 
of the timid and credulous. 

There was a legend, — we know not whether there was 
any foundation whatever for it, — that in the days of 
" lang syne " a company of wild youths used to go to the 
Gaick mountains, in Badernock, about twenty-four miles 
from Grantown, every year, on hunting excursions. 
They would spend several days and nights there, sleep- 
ing in a stone lodge built for their shelter. On a certain 
night, while drinking and carousing, away from all re- 
straint, there came up one of those terrific thunder-storms 
experienced only in mountainous regions. The lightning 
struck the lodge, scattering the stones of which it was 
built, and leaving only a blackened ruin. Every one of 
the revellers was killed. Their friends, after waiting in 
vain for their return, sought them in their retreat, but 
found only their disfigured remains. 

Thenceforth this spot became a terror to the people of 
the region, many of whom firmly believed that on the 
anniversary of that night the ghosts of the doomed rev- 
ellers came and danced round a fire among the ruins. 

Young Dunbar had heard this stated as a fact from 



8 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

his earliest years, and when about sixteen or seventeen 
he resolved to prove the story a fiction. He induced 
two or three young companions to share with him the ad- 
venture and the glory ; for it took stout hearts to face 
ghosts m those days. 

Taking their guns and plaids, and filling their knap- 
sacks with provisions, they set off' amid the tears and en- 
treaties of their friends, who feared they would be spirited 
away for their foolhardiness. After a long and weaiy 
tramp, " the bold laddies" reached the haunted ruin. 
They built a fire and ate their supper ; and after a 
merry evening spent in singing, and conversation spiced 
with jokes at the expense of the ghosts, they wrapped 
themselves in their plaids and lay down to sleep. Morn- 
ing broke on the hills, and neither ghost nor goblin had 
disturbed them. After a few days' sport, they returned 
home, to the surprise as well as admiration of their 
friends, and exposed the fallacy of the time-honored 
legend. 

Like excursions were made to the Cairngorm moun- 
tains, in search of the agates commonly called Scotch peb- 
bles, many of which, after being polished, are of rare 
beauty. But it was the wildness and danger of the ad- 
ventures, more than the ghosts or the pebbles, which gave 
them their peculiar charm. 

It is very pleasant to find in these youthful sports no 
evidences of cruelty or ill-nature, but many proofs of the 
genial spirit and benevolent consideration of others which 
marked Mr. Dunbar's after life. He seems now to have 
been well satisfied with his religious state, and unconscious 
of the need of being " born again." Indeed, his birth in 
Bible-reading, Sabbath-keeping Scotland, and his " bap- 
tism " into the Kirk, were tantamount, in his mind, to the 



RELIGION IN THE HIGHLANDS. 9 

new birth spoken of in Scripture. The community 
around him were at that time in a state of spiritual death. 
All who had been " baptized " in infancy, who had learned 
the Assembly's Catechism, and who maintained outward 
morality, were, at the age of eighteen, admitted to the 
.Lord's Supper and received into full communion with the 
church. Thus every member of society, unless openly 
profane, impure, or dishonest, was a " Christian ; " in- 
deed, it was an open reproach to stand outside the fold. 
Thousands who were tenacious of the tenets and forms 
of the church, and pharisaically strict in their relig- 
ious observances, lived and died without experiencing the 
power of the gospel in their hearts. They loved the 
Kirk with the same patriotic fervor with which the Jews 
of old loved Zion, and resented any innovations upon her 
polity or doctrines as heresy meriting the severest pun- 
ishment. 




CHAPTER II. 



Lachlin Mcintosh — Persecution for Christ's Sake — Peter Grant — Seeking after God — 
The Laird of Grant — His Justice and Generosity — The Awakened Soul — A Blind 
Leader — Temptation to Suicide — The Deposed Schoolmaster — Led to the Cross — 
Peace in Believing. 



BOUT this time, which has been termed u the 
midnight of the Church of Scotland," the brothers 
Robert and James Alexander Haldane experi- 
enced the great change from nature to grace. 
Henceforth they devoted their wealth and talents 
to the spread of evangelical religion, particularly 
in their native Scotland. For this purpose they took 
under their care pious young men, both Baptists and In- 
dependents, to train for missionary work. Among these 
was Mr. Lachlin Mcintosh, a friend and fellow-student 
of the late honored and beloved Rev. Dr. Maclay, of 
New York. 

It was the custom of these godly men to make tours 
themselves, preaching Christ in the streets, the woods, or 
wherever men would listen. Their hearts were touched 
for Gran town and its vicinity, and they established Mr. 
Mcintosh there. He was not a Baptist, and therefore did 
not arouse the enmity of the Kirk as the Haldanes them- 
selves might have done on some points. But he preached 
Christ crucified without asking either the consent or the 
patronage of the great. Therefore he was looked upon as a 
heretic, and his meetings were denounced as unlawful con- 

(10) 



PERSECUTION. 11 

venticles. A course of systematic persecution was instituted 
against the good man and his little flock, and only the 
greater light of the age prevented their being hunted, like 
the Covenanters, over hill and muir. 

The Laird of Grant was at that time absent on the con- 
tinent, but there were not wanting men to acquaint him 
with the bold interference of the zealous missionary, and 
the disaffection of his few followers toward the Establish- 
ment. Of course he, as a good Presbyterian, could not 
countenance such disorderly proceedings, and forbade 
Mr. Mcintosh to preach in any building within his do- 
mains. This was enough for the bigoted partisans who 
had arrayed themselves against the evangelical movement, 
and they annoyed and worried this servant of God in ways 
the laird would never have countenanced. He was not 
only forbidden to preach in any building on the estate, 
but the people were threatened not to harbor him in their 
houses. One man in Grantown was actually fined heavily 
for giving a night's lodging to the blessed outcast. 

The little band now chose a grove, close by the house of 
Mr. Thomas Dunbar, as their sanctuary ; and not a little 
mirth was spent on them and their worship. The boys of 
the region, hearing the minister and his views ridiculed at 
home, felt quite at liberty to make his meetings a place 
of merriment and rude sport ; and not unfrequently did the 
little grove resound at the same time with the song of 
praise and the laughter of fools. It w T as the custom of some 
of these graceless young " sons of the church " to pelt him 
with tufts of grass and other missiles while his eyes were 
closed in prayer. One such scene made a deep impression 
on the mind of Duncan Dunbar. While the man of God 
was praying, a lad, darting from behind a tree, threw an 
egg, which struck him in the forehead. Mr. Mcintosh 



12 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

raised his white handkerchief, and, manifesting not the 
slightest resentment, wiped away all traces of the insult 
without ever ceasing his fervent prayer. 

Among the youths who came there from curiosity was 
one of no little importance among his fellows. He paid 
great attention to his personal appearance, and was looked 
up to as the leader of the " ton," among the striplings of 
Grantown. After the above-mentioned insulting attack 
on the unoffending servant of God, and his awfully impres- 
sive prayer, there was a great change in the mien of Peter 
Grant. Many of the little artifices and ornaments which 
had called forth the admiration of his associates were now 
missing. His merry face was marked with great solem- 
nity, and his once mirthful tongue was so silent as to call 
forth the surprise of all who knew him. The spirit of God 
had touched him. From that day Peter Grant was an 
humble and devoted follower of Christ, and it was hence- 
forth his glory to mingle in that lowly band as a brother 
in tribulation. At these services in the grove, Peter 
Grant and Duncan Dunbar first met. The former, several 
years the senior, still lives to mourn the loss of a brother 
beloved in the Lord. He is, and for long years has been, 
the pastor of the very church founded by Lachlin Mcin- 
tosh, in the care of which he is now assisted by his son, 
Rev. William Grant. 

Among Mr. Dunbar's papers we find the following in a 
schoolboy hand : — 

" I now removed to a friend's house far from my father's. 

Being a favorite of the minister of H , I received 

from him the loan of two books, ' The Spectator ' and a 
volume of Tracts, wherein were contained anecdotes of 
several who had been converted. Their experiences were 



THE LAIRD OF GRANT. 13 

interesting, I having never heard of the like before. I 
read this book until I grew in love with the peace and joy 
which seemed to possess their souls when they left their 
former course and turned to God. I now resolved to 
watch over my temper, and was so much in love with 
virtue that I sacrificed many of my pleasures ; but still I 
was uneasy. By and by thoughts of the being of a God 
occurred to my mind, and I began reading the Bible. I 
soon became convinced that I was a great sinner, and 
must immediately repent." 

Then follow these imperfect notes, never meant for 
another's eye : — 

" Sermon — watch and pray — great burden — over- 
come with sleep — increasing views of God's holiness — 
temptation that it is too late — call upon minister — call 
again — fears of losing my soul and wish that I had never 
been born — go home — -dreams of horror — see my great 
ignorance — know not what the gospel is — feel my hard- 
ness of heart — hear of my brother's illness, and wish his 
place were mine — go to see him — hear of Jesus' love — 
feel some wonder, and decide it is no use to try — read 
Pilgrim's Progress — no good." 

But to return to Mr. Mcintosh. The Laird of Grant 
had come back to his Highland Castle, and, hearing such 
contradictory accounts of him, generously inquired into 
the merits of the case. While Kirk partisans painted 
his heresy in glowing colors, many, who had no sympathy 
with his view^s, gave him, in justice, a kindly word ; and 
his own adherents, who knew him better than either, 
spoke of his forbearance, his zeal, and his unfailing kind- 
ness to all parties, and pointed to many, who, through his 
2 



14 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

influence, had been drawn from open sin, and were now 
virtuous and godly men. 

When the noble laird saw that Mr. Mcintosh had been 
a blessing to the community, rather than a curse, as had 
been represented, he resolved, in the spirit of a true Scot- 
tish gentleman, to make amends to him and his little flock 
for the persecution they had suffered. He therefore gave 
them land on which to build a chapel, where they might 
worship God in their own humble way, unmolested. The 
light that godly man then kindled on those Scottish hills 
has never been quenched. It has guided many souls to 
God, and still burns on brightly, showing the path to the 
celestial city. 

Young Dunbar had long been, as we have seen, 
absent from home, and probably had heard nothing of 
the little band who had now forsaken the grove, by his 
father's house, for their own chapel. He still attended 
the Kirk service, as his parents were rigid adherents of 
its doctrines and forms. His mother, however, a woman 
of the tenderest sensibilities, had felt a strong sympathy 
for the persecuted Mcintosh, and he well remembered, 
after having himself at one time entertained the family by 
an account of " the sport in the grove," her taking him 
aside and warning him solemnly to have no part in it, 
saying, " This is a man of God, my son ; be very careful 
how you treat him." 

He was now at home again and about eighteen years of 
age ; when, from what immediate cause we do not know, 
his attention was turned to the concerns of his soul. He 
grew suddenly sick of his former cherished amusements, 
and began to dread the faces of his old companions. He 
was restless and miserable. He knew not what ailed him, 
nor whither to fly for relief. His sins rose like mountains, 



A BLIND LEADER. 15 

and he felt the wrath of God abiding on him. He was at 
last brought to a complete stand. Praying, reading the 
Bible, and forsaking his pleasures gave no comfort. He 
formed a resolution bold for those days, — to la) 7 his case 
before the minister, believing that he, if any one, could 
heal diseases of the soul. Trembling with the awe 
which the Scottish minister of that time inspired, but 
over which the young of our day and country have more 
than triumphed, he presented himself at the manse, where, 
being a great favorite, he had so often been honored by a 
smile and the loan of a book. He was graciously received, 
and, after much fear and trembling, succeeded in confessing 
his burden of sin and portraying his anguish on account 
of it ; and implored the minister as a man of God to 
point him to the path of peace. It seems the worthy 
man was not taken wholly by surprise, for rumor had 
already brought to him the suspicion that the young leader 
in the village gayety was growing melancholy — perhaps 
losing his mind. So, after listening patiently for some 
time, he said soothingly, " This canna' be, Duncan ; 
ye are called by all one of the very best laddies in 
Grantown. Ye are ill, my young friend, and your mind 
has taken this melancholy turn." 

His visitor insisted that his bodily health was never 
better, and that only his soul was sick. 

" Now, take my advice, laddie," said the old man, 
kindly, " and return to your young companions and your 
innocent pleasures, and thus throw off this morbid gloom. 
Otherwise ye'll surely lose your reason." 

Young Dunbar told him that the very thought of 
those companions and pleasures and the hours he had 
wasted with them were as arrows to his soul. The 
minister looked pitifully at him and said, " I used to 



16 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

hear you playing the German flute in the garden ; now 
try that again ; music will cheer ye, and surely there 
canna 5 be any sin in a flute." 

But, " as vinegar to the teeth, and as nitre to a wound, 
so is music to a sorrowful heart." The skill of the physician 
was well-nigh spent ; but a new thought now struck him. 

" How old are ye, Duncan ? " he asked. 

" Nineteen." 

" And ye have never partaken of the sacrament ? " 

" Never." 

" Well, then, the cause of your trouble is quite plain 
to me. Ye are the son of worthy Christian parents, 
yourself an upright lad, bound to set a good example to 
your companions. Ye have been unfaithful, and God is 
frowning on ye. At the next sacrament come forward 
and take your place among the children of God, and after 
partaking ye will be at peace, I think." 

But alas, it was in vain ! The conscience, roused by the 
Spirit of God, could not thus be lulled back to its carnal 
slumbers, and he replied, " Oh, sir, I could never dare 
to do that ! A sinner under the wrath of God and rebelling 
against his justice, to sit down and commemorate his 
dying love among his children ! Pie would surely come 
out in sudden judgment, and smite me at his table." 

After a little reflection, a new solution of the mystery 
appeared to the minister, and, in a solemn tone, he said, 
looking keenly into his young parishioner's eye, — 
" Duncan, my lad, ye have always borne a good name in 
the place, and been a great favorite, and all point to ye as 
an example for the young. But I fear, from your present 
condition, that ye have deceived us all ! Ye must have 
committed some awful crime, which is tormenting your 
conscience and driving ye to despair. If this is so, ye may 



TEMPTATION TO SUICIDE. 17 

confess it freely to me, in the strictest confidence, and I 
will still be your friend. What ha' ye been doing, 
laddie ?" 

44 Nothing in all my life, sir, that I would not be willing 
my parents should know. It is the sins of my heart, which 
none but God can see, my rebellion against him, my re- 
jection of Christ, — in short, my exceeding vileness in 
his sight, which makes me w T ish I had never been born ! 
L am so full of sin that I cannot see how God can possibly 
pardon me, and yet remain a just and holy Being." The 
minister shook his head mournfully, admitted that he saw 
no help, and dismissed his soul-stricken guest with the 
cheering assurance, " I think ye are losing your mind, 
laddie." 

Young Dunbar being so well known in the parish, his 
state of mind soon became a subject of discussion, and not 
a few of the comments on it reached his ear, causing him 
very deep distress. A dear and valued friend of his early 
life, Mrs, McAUan, of Aberdeen, writes, since his death : 

44 You must have heard of his awful state of mind before 
he obtained peace through the blood of the Lamb. He 
was in Montrose, and one day made up his mind to com- 
mit suicide, and thus put an end to his suffering, as he 
in his desperation thought ; and this was his plan, — to 
run along on the parapet of the bridge, and then drop 
down, that it might be thought an accident, as he was 
known to be fond of deeds of daring and fearless of all 
danger." 

44 Failing to find any comfort from the minister," 
writes a friend, " he went home, feeling as if he should 
sink into the earth, and saying to himself, 4 What shall 
I do, and whither shall I flee to escape the vengeance of an 
angry God,' I think it was on the evening of that very 
2* 



18 DUNCAN DUNBAR 

day that he told a servant — perhaps the only person 
who would listen to him — the cause of his trouble, and 
explained to her the danger of living thus exposed to death 
and hell. On hearing this, and witnessing his anguish of 
spirit, she at once became the subject of like convictions. 
He now felt the weight of her case added to his own, and 
wept and prayed with her. We can easily imagine how 
a family and neighborhood, unused to such manifestations, 
would look upon them, nor can we wonder that they 
should exclaim, c Sure, the laddie's daft.' ' : 

" I think we may conclude," continues the friend re- 
ferred to, " that then and there commenced his life-work of 
awakening, instrumentally, the careless, and winning souls 
to Christ." 

While in this state of mental agony, lie heard that a 
neighbor had said, " Duncan Dunbar is going crazy 

like old James , the schoolmaster, in the mountains. 

He was taken the same way, talking about his being a 
great sinner, which everybody knew was not true, and 
mourning, lamenting, and praying for a long time; and 
then came a chancre, when he did nothing but sine: and 
pray, and preach to everybody who would listen to him. 
Of course the minister could not countenance such irregu- 
lar conduct, and the parish school was taken from him, and 
now he lives in great poverty in the mountains ; but 
he talks and sings, preaches and prays, all the same, as 
happy as a king." 

These words opened a door of hope. One soul, at 
least, had been in these bonds and was set free ; and who 
could tell but that he also might yet be forgiven and saved ? 
He at once resolved to pay a secret visit to the deposed 
schoolmaster. One Sabbath morning, before the family 
were astir, he left the house noiselessly and commenced 



THE DEPOSED SCHOOLMASTER. 19 

his walk of several miles, in the gray dawn. After some 
hours he reached a group of cottages of the very humblest 
class ever occupied by Scottish peasants, and inquired for 

James . The one low door of the building was 

ajar, and, as he stood before it, a song of praise and 
gladness broke the stillness of the Sabbath air. When that 
ceased, the voice of prayer rose so clear and calm that he 
felt it was entering the ear of Heaven. It was like music 
to his soul, for the confessions as w T ell as the desires were 
his own. After the fervent " Amen," he tapped at the 
door which led to the one apartment, and a kind voice 
bade him " come in." He entered, and stood before a 
gentleman, such as one would not expect to meet in so 
poor a place. 

In Scotland, the parish schoolmaster is no ordinary man, 
but always a thorough-bred scholar, and usually a gentle- 
man. In most cases such are educated for the ministry, 
and, either choosing to teach, or failing to get the gift of a 
living, take this position, second in importance only to the 
minister's. In most of the rural villages of that noble land 
young men can be fitted for college in the parish school 
as well as in a collegiate academy, for only men who are 
qualified to do this are ever appointed to the place. 

Addressing his host, the visitor said, " I'm a stranger to 
you, sir, and have come for a little advice." 

Giving him a cordial greeting and seating him, the old 
man said, " Ye are very welcome, laddie, to our poor 
home. If it's business that brings ye, ye must abide till 
the morrow, for we do none on the Lord's day." 

The young stranger then opened his heart and told his 
errand, while tears ran freely down the old man's cheeks. 
When the tale was ended, he turned to his wife saying, 
" Here you see an answer to our prayers ; I was one 



20 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

year," he said, " praying for the sou] of my wife, and when 
God gave me that, w r e joined together in pleading for one 
soul more." 

Here, in this humble abode, the troubled one w^as pointed 
to Christ as the only way of life, and warned not to make 
a saviour of his prayers, his efforts, his tears, or even of his 
deep convictions ; and the way to heaven by the cross, 
without " the deeds of the law," was made plain to his 
mind. 

He was now T informed that the worthy couple were 
wont to walk several miles over the heath-covered hills 
to meet a few disciples, of kindred spirit, for worship. 
Forgetting the weariness of the way lie had already 
come, he gladly accepted their invitation to accompany 
them thither. They were Independents, answering to the 
Conore^ationalists of New England. Anions them and 
on his way home, his soul was filled to overflowing with 
the peace of God and the joy of forgiveness. The change 
w T as truly from darkness to light, and the glory of the 
Lord filled his soul as fully as terror had done before. 
" Shortly after he found peace," writes an honored friend, 
" he saw- his former minister, with whom he was still a 
favorite. He entreated Duncan not to leave the Estab- 
lished Church, but to stand by him, and to induce others 
to do so likewise ; telling him that he might teach and even 
preach to the people, but not to leave them ! " Then 
Duncan took the bold step to say " that there was a 
little band of people here who feared God, with whom he 
now intended to worship." However little he may have 
seen or known of Mr. Mcintosh's church after they wor- 
shipped in the glen, he now discovered the sympathy there 
was between himself and them, and, like Peter when re- 
leased from prison, he went to his own company. 




CHAPTER III. 



Aspirations for a Military Life — Residence in Aberdeen — - Marriage — Labors as a Lay- 
man — Thoughts on Christian Baptism — Desires for mder Usefulness — Sails for 
America — Low State of Evangelical Religion in the British Provinces — His Labors 
in New Brunswick and their Results — Call to Ordination by an Independent 
Church — Increased Trials on the Mode and Subjects of Baptism — Immersion and 
Ordination — Settlement in St. George — Labors for the Blacks and Indians— Journal. 



OT long after his conversion, young Dunbar went 
to the academy connected with the Edinboro' Uni- 
versity, where he remained a considerable time. 
On leaving school, his great desire was to enter the 
army ; and a relative, Major Dunbar, and other in- 
fluential friends, promised to get him a commission. 
While waiting; for this he left home on a hunting; 
expedition to the Lowlands. At Arbroath he made the 
acquaintance of Mr. Penman, a dissenting minister of 
the Relief church, whose views accorded with his own 
and by whose preaching he was much edified. He 
invited him most cordially to his house, where he en- 
joyed true Christian fellowship. On his leaving, Mr. 
Penman, finding he was going to Brechin, asked him to 
deliver a letter for Mrs. Penman to a young member of his 
church, who, with her widowed mother and a sister, had 
recently removed there. He did so ; and the acquaintance 
thus formed resulted in his marriage to the lady to whom 
he bore the letter, — Miss Christina Mitchel ; an event than 
which no other proved more clearly God's kindness to him 
personally, or conduced more to his success as a minister 
of the gospel. Her gentle, loving nature, and her deep, 

(21) 



22 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

earnest piety, made her unobtrusive life one long and beau- 
tiful walk with God. 

After this little tour, Mr. Dunbar returned to his High- 
land home. Just then the victory at Waterloo put an end 
to hostilities, and there was no more call for officers or 
men. He therefore went into business in Aberdeen, and 
soon after married. He remained several years in this 
city, ardent and zealous as a Christian, and preaching as a 
layman when opportunity offered. Feeling a deep interest 
in the truth of God, and being an earnest student of the 
Scriptures, his attention was now called to the mode and 
subjects of baptism. He was not acquainted with one per- 
son holding the views he afterward adopted, and his trials 
and subsequent decision were wholly the result of read- 
ing the New Testament. 

Having a strong desire for wider usefulness, Mr. Dunbar 
now resolved to visit America. He left his native land in 
June, 1817, and, as a rebuke to the impatient spirit which 
in our time can hardly brook ten days on the voyage, we in- 
sert the following from his meagre journal kept during that 
time : — 

" I left Scotland for America, June 5th, 1817, Sabbath, 
in the ship 6 Minerva,' Capt. Strachan, who treated me 
with very great kindness. Sailed from Aberdeen. In a 
fortnight, anchored in Thurso Bay to wait for passengers. 
Went on shore. In ten days sailed for Fort William. 
Narrow escape from being upset in a squall while running 
up the narrow strait called ' The Sound of Mull.' At Fort 
William staid several days. Took in ten passengers, among 
them Capt. Alexander Chisholm, late of the African Corps, 
several years in Africa ; also a young priest and several 
other Roman Catholics. Here often went on shore ; re- 



LABORS IN NEW BRUNSWICK. 23 

ceived a letter to James Fraser, Esq., Halifax, to which, as 
a means in the hand of Providence, I owe more than all 
the others*" 

Having arrived in America, he proceeded to the British 
Province of New Brunswick. We give an extract of a 
letter from an esteemed friend in Eastport : — 

" My mother can distinctly remember his telling her the 
trials of his mind about coming to America. He believed 
that his Master had a work for him to do on this conti- 
nent ; and when he landed in Eastport he felt that he had 
come to the wrong place, and so did not stop here, but 
passed on to St. Andrews, where the same feeling took 
possession of his mind. Prom that place he went to St. 
George, and, in his own words, when he first set foot 
on that soil he felt, ' This is the place ; I am where I 
should be.' " 

Here Mr. Dunbar was received with the warmth and 
cordiality which awaited him wherever he went. His heart 
was full of the work which had brought him over the 
sea. For a short season he devoted himself to teach- 
ing in St. George, his evenings being much occupied in 
preaching in the village and vicinity. Numbers of his 
scholars were hopefully converted. Though not yet or- 
dained as a minister, he felt constrained to speak to his 
*ellow-men of the great truths of the gospel, which so 
powerfully impressed his own mind, as he had previously 
done, to some extent, in his own coi ltry. His labors in 
this respect were incessant, and characterized by the same 
ardent zeal which marked his ministry in later years. 

A lady, now resident in the States, remarked to the 
writer that some of the people thought him u eccentric," 
which may be explained by the wide contrast between his 



24 DUNCAN DUXBAK. 

own flaming zeal and the spiritual deadness which at that 
time generally prevailed in the Province. 

While residing in St. George, Mr. Dunbar made occa- 
sional visits to St. Andrews and other places, spending a 
week or fortnight at a time in visiting and preaching. On 
such occasions he was her mother's guest, and she dis- 
tinctly remembers his prayers in the family as being pecu- 
liarly fervent and impressive. Once, she said, it seemed 
to them that the very floor shook under them as they were 
kneeling, so intense were his pleadings for the impenitent. 
The impression then made upon her youthful mind was 
never effaced. 

Mr. Dunbar's visits to St. Andrews were very annoying 
to the Church of England clergyman, a Mr. Mircy, who, 
writes a friend, " threatened to imprison him for preach- 
ing sectarian doctrines, until a Mr. McMaster, a Scotch 
Presbyterian minister, told him it would be the dearest 
thing that he ever did." 

A pamphlet of one hundred pages, " A Concise View 
of the Origin and Principles of the Several Religious 
Denominations Existing at present in the Province of 
New Brunswick, by the Rev. D. Dunbar, 1819," con- 
tains the following allusions to the reverend persecutor : 
" Episcopacy is established by law in the Province of 
New Brunswick ; and, although dissenters are tolerated, 
they are in no wise allowed any help from the Province 
treasury to build places of worship. That public purse, 
however (which undoubtedly belongs to dissenters as 
well as churchmen), is always open when one, two, or 
three hundred pounds are wanted by a few individuals, in 
any part of the province, to build an Episcopal church. 
This partiality is not to be ascribed to any defect in the 
established laws of the Province, but proceeds from the 



CHRISTIAN BAPTISM. 25 

management of affairs in the House of Assembly, — a mat- 
ter which dissenters will, no doubt, keep in view at the 
next general election. The lukewarm indifference of the 
church clergy has opened the eyes of many already ; and 
Providence seems to have sent one gentleman of that 
order (in mercy), to the county of Charlotte, who, if 
spared, w r ill soon unmask himself and his brethren. He 
is likely to make more dissenters in one month than all 
the c sectarian ' ministers in the province have made for 
years." 

Mr. Dunbar's sphere of labor becoming extended, and 
his zeal and success attracting much attention, the Inde- 
pendent Church in Sheffield, N. B., invited him to be- 
come its pastor ; which invitation he accepted to the ex- 
tent of preaching to them, without administering the ordi- 
nances. The church were desirous that he should be or- 
dained, and wrote him, while he w^as staying for a time 
in St. John, expressing their dissatisfaction at his delay. 
From his reply, we learn that this arose from his having 
the subject of baptism under serious examination. But 
he expected ere long to arrive at a decision, and more than 
hinted at the result. At length his mind found rest in 
the scriptural doctrine of believers' baptism, and he was 
immersed by the Rev. Mr. Griffin, of St. John, in the 
harbor of that city, October 31, 1818, in company with 
Mr. (now Rev.) J. Bunting and others* He was ordained 
at that time or immediately after. 

It is interesting to know that about this time Mr. Mc- 
intosh and his whole church in Grantown became Bap- 
tists, and pastor and people were immersed in one day ; 
and there a numerous band are still bearing their testimony 
to the primitive simplicity of this significant ordinance. 

Mr. Dunbar's change of view 7 s on this subject did not 



26 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

lose him either the esteem or confidence of his brethren 
of other denominations. The church in Sheffield com- 
missioned him, when leaving for Scotland the next 
spring, to procure for them a pastor, which he did to 
their satisfaction. 

After this, Mr. Dunbar preached in various places, 
chiefly in St. George, where he became pastor of the 
Baptist church. 

"The original church," writes a friend, "had nearly 
lost its visibility, and its members were like the church in 
Sardis ; but your father, after his change of sentiments, 
called them together and told them he had a call from St. 
Davids ; but if even ten of them would unite and form a 
new church, he would stop with them, even though he 
should have to live in the most frugal manner with bare- 
ly the necessaries of life. He did stay ; and there was 
such an outpouring of the Holy Spirit as is seldom seen ; 
and most who came into the church at that time were 
men of earnest, heartfelt piety." 

From the journal which follows, some idea may be 
formed of his labors in this place and elsewhere. It also 
shows how his heart was affected by the religious destitu- 
tion of the region, and how much he was interested in the 
formation of a missionary society for the evangelization 
of the Province, including the Blacks and Indians. 

" Sabbath, March 14. Was very earnest with God 
this morning for the help of his Spirit to give me a clear 
view of the doctrine of internal grace and the Spirit's 
work upon the hearts of his people, and particularly be- 
cause the very foundation of this essential truth is at- 
tacked by Mr. 's new notions, which seem to be gain- 
ing ground. Was much straitened until a few minutes 
before I entered the pulpit. Read one chapter of 1st 



LABORS FOR THE BLACKS, ETC. 27 

John, and, in connection, lectured from fifty-first Psalm. 
1 can truly say that the Lord heard and helped me. 
From these portions of Scripture I was enabled to show 
the necessity of feeling a lively sense of our daily sins, 
and of confessing them to God, praying for his Spirit to 
apply the cleansing influence of the blood of Christ to our 
guilty consciences. ...... 

" In the evening, preached to the black people, at the 
house of Mrs. S., from Isaiah xli. 9 : ' Thou whom I have 
taken from the ends of the earth, and called thee from the 
chief men thereof, and said unto thee, Thou art my ser- 
vant ; I have chosen thee, and not cast thee away.' 
Found great comfort in my own mind. Many of the 
poor blacks attended, and some were in tears. En- 
couraged them with the prospect of an African church, 
and appointed another meeting for them to-morrow even- 
ing. . . - . . . 

" Spoke to the black people again from 1 John hi. : 
' Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed 
upon us, that we should be called the sons of God ! ' 
Having given liberty to any who might wish to speak, a 
poor negro woman rose and declared that she had come 
five miles the day before to seek the Lord, in consequence 
of a strong impression on her mind. While speaking to 
her of the love of God and of the blood of Christ as the 
only sure foundation to rest upon, and of the great dan- 
ger of delusion, she fainted away. 

" Strong prejudice against the blacks in St. John. But 
why all this ? Oh, wicked heart ! 

" I think of establishing a missionary residence, for In- 
dians or Blacks, where ministers may spend one month 
each to labor with and improve them ; the only way to 
clear expenses and make them independent." 



28 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

Thus was his great heart ever beating with pity for 
those who had no helper, compassionate toward the sor- 
rowful and outcast. 

" Strong in faith when I awoke, to speak from Matt, 
xxv. 39, 40. After breakfast and a solitary walk by the 
seaside, went to church and spoke from the above words. 
The Lord helped me. Thought how many there were of 
God's people in this Province who were spiritually hun- 
gry and thirsty and naked, and recommended missionary 
efforts to Christians. Proposed a collection for that pur- 
pose and promised to preach to the young people in the 
evening. 

" Did so, and was much helped in my exhortation to them 
to share their privileges with others and proposed to them 
to unite in a society. Preached from Acts xvi. : 6 Men 
of Macedonia,' &c. How many in this very province 
wanted help, &c. One rich 2^' of essor went out of the meet- 
ing ivhen I spoke of the iron chest, and Judas'* bag ! 

" Sabbath. I find it good for a minister not to take 
notice of every seeming, or even real, neglect. While 
sick, some, of whom I hoped much, came not to see 
me, but in church I took occasion to speak kindly to them, 
taking no notice of anything. This seemed to gain, &c. 
They appeared conscious of the neglect, and acknowledged 
it. I said all was well. They kindly invited me to their 
houses. May the Lord give me i the wisdom of the ser- 
pent,' &c. 

" I visited several families, and overcame my usual diffi- 
dence so far as to speak something in every place, and 
found it profitable for myself. Lord, in my zeal for thy 
cause let me speak though kings should hear. 

" I give thee my soul this night, dear Saviour ; accept 
and keep it." 



CHAPTER IV. 

Formation of the New Brunswick Evangelical Society — Sails for Great Britain — Jour- 
nal — Arrival in Glasgow — Hindrance in his Work — Kind Reception and Sympathy 
from Dr. Chalmers, &c. — Journal — Letter. 

(QfpN the spring of the year 1819, a society was consti- 
*QjR tuted under the name of " The Evangelical Society 
Z&i of New Brunswick," embracing three religious de- 
ktJ nominations, and numbering among its supporters 

<£ some of the most eminent Christian men in the 
Province. 

It was deemed advisable that Mr. Dunbar should visit 
Great Britain in behalf of the Society, to obtain funds 
and missionaries. 

He accordingly sailed from St. John in the " Marcus 
Hill," June 19, 1819. 

From a journal which he kept at this time we make a 
few selections : — 

" Wednesday, June 19, 1819. Arrived at St. John. 
In afternoon went on board with my black boy. I desire 
to be useful on board this ship. I pray that God may give 
me zeal and also favor in the eyes of the captain that I 
may have access to the crew. 

" Sunday. In the morning great desire to have my heart 
softened with love to the perishing souls of the many around 
me in this ship, but feel it as hard as adamant ; was, how- 
ever, determined to follow duty, and consequently at 

3 * (29) 



30 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

twelve, having obtained the captain's consent, all hands 
were mustered on the quarter-deck. All were silent and 
attentive. Read and sung part of a hymn, prayed and ex- 
pounded. Was very languid in my own mind, and had 
no great freedom of speech. Oh that God's Holy Spirit 
mioiit follow what has been imperfectly said, that the 
name of Jesus might be glorified, and at least one poor 
soul be released from bondage. 

" May God give me wisdom, that I may know how to be 
all things to all men ! 

" Administered some medicine to two sick men on board. 

"Monday. Beautiful day, but no wind. Felt grieved 
to hear the crew swear and blaspheme, and spoke plainly 
to one K., from Greenock. He acknowledged his wrong 
and was thankful for the admonition. Spoke much to 
another, who has been sick for some time and is recovering. 
He confessed his having some serious thoughts while con- 
fined, and this was ground for my entering into serious 
conversation with him. Encouraged by having embraced 
such an opportunity. Many suggestions to my mind : ' You 
are only a passenger ; you need not care for those on board ; 
if you can conduct so that none can charge you with any- 
thing unbecoming your profession, that is all that can be 
expected,' &c. 

" If the Lord will, I resolve to devote every Monday to 
reading, and conversing, where opportunity occurs, with 
the crew : and Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, 
to writing ; Saturday to self-examination, and prayer for 
a blessing on the approaching Sabbath. 

" Oh that I could live alone to God ! I have thought 
to-day that I did not love at all, and I fear that thought 
is true. Oh for grace to conquer my old nature ! 

" At evening I took up Watts's Hymn Book, and while 



JOURNAL. 31 

reading several hymns, I did sensibly experience in my soul 
a degree of love to the Saviour, and could have given the 
whole world that my love were stronger, my evidence 
clearer, my faith more active, my corruption subdued. It 
came forcibly into my mind that this comfortable frame 
must have been produced by the Holy Spirit and that it 
was an answer to prayer, for I was praying in the morn- 
ing for this very thing. I think, while in such a frame, 
how glad would I be to have an opportunity of preaching 
the gospel to thousands. Oh that my dear Saviour would 
manifest his love to my benighted soul ! Oh that my 
dear wife were present to share in my joys ! 

" Monday. Nothing interesting during the last week ; al- 
most a perfect calm, and my patience truly put to the test, 
as my desires for a quick passage are very great and my 
hopes extremely sanguine ; but the Governor of seas shall 
do his pleasure, and he knows what is best for his 
creatures. May I be enabled to say from the heart, ' Thy 
will be done, whatever betide.' 

" Oh, how hard to bring an ungrateful heart to a fixed 
confidence in God, to a sense of his love, to a hatred of 
sin, to a pure love of holiness ! 

" Sunday. Crew assembled at twelve o'clock ; preached ; 
great attention for an hour and a half. While I sang, prayed, 
and read from the second to the thirty-first verses of Prov. i., 
and discoursed from Gen. xxii. 10, I was encouraged to 
hope the Lord would bless his word to some. How should I 
feel encouraged was God to manifest his love to any of 
these poor outcasts ! 1 was earnest with my Saviour in 
the morning, that I might be helped to speak and feel a 
sense of the worth of their souls. In some measure, 
I trust, he heard me. 

" The captain himself was very attentive, and as he lias 



32 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

been reading the life of Col. Gardiner, which I gave him 
a day or two before, I took occasion to speak with him 
freely after dinner while walking together on the quarter- 
deck." 

Mr. D. reached Glasgow, August, 1819. While here, 
he was the welcome guest of Donald Macdonald, Esq. ; 
and the friendship between them was only interrupted by 
the death of the former. Immediately on his arrival in 
Scotland, Mr. D. commenced his labors in behalf of the 
Missionary Society. His having become a Baptist now 
raised a serious obstacle in the way of his mission. A Mr. 
W., who had gone to New Brunswick from Ireland, en- 
deavored to undermine his influence, by writing to Dr. 
Chalmers and other clergymen of the Presbyterian Church 
in Glasgow, that Mr. D.'s purpose was to raise funds 
u for making schism in the church already established in 
the Province." 

The subject was investigated by several Presbyterian 
ministers, particularly by Dr. Love, Dr. Burns, and Dr. 
Chalmers and others, of Glasgow, all of whom warmly sym- 
pathized with Mr. D. in these trying circumstances ; and 
the result was a most hearty endorsement of him by these 
distinguished men, as a devoted minister of Christ, and of 
his work as eminently important. 

With these credentials he resumed his labors for the 
Society, visiting various parts of Scotland, England, and 
Ireland, and meeting with very encouraging success. He 
was taken kindly by the hand, welcomed to the pulpits of 
his brethren of various denominations, and encouraged to 
plead his cause. Two or three men were found ready to 
consecrate themselves to missionary work in the Province 
and to accompany him on his return. 

During his absence from N. B., from June, 1819, to 



JOURNAL. 66 

Oct. 1820, when he left Glasgow for America, he kept a 
journal, devoted chiefly to a record of the religious exer- 
cises of his mind. It will appear from this how faithful 
he was with his own soul, and how, through severe 
spiritual conflicts, God was preparing him to become 
eminently an experimental preacher. 

" December 8, 1819. Prayer to God ; desire to live unto 

God. ;. 

" Alas, O my Saviour ! when shall I be wise ? When 

shall I fear thee aright ? Look back, my soul, on B , 

B :, A- , Edin — — , to Ireland, to Greenock, to 

Glasgow. Examine the state of the mind at all these 
places. But oh, that solitary night at N. H. ; the promise 
to God ; the prayer put up ; the journey to A. ; inter- 
position at the moment the most desperate ! Surely this 
is like God ; his manner of correcting his people ; bitter 
in the bud ; mercies at Glasgow. Helps there from ser- 
mons by Dr. Chalmers, Dr. Love, &c. 

" Dr. C.'s text, Rom. — The manner of the Spirit's illu- 
mination ; what grieved him, wdiat cherished him. Dr. 
Love, Acts vii. — ' I have seen, I have seen the affliction 
of my people,' &c. He seeth ; he knoweth, for he sendeth 
affliction ; but he cometh down to deliver. Improvement ; 
bring trials under his notice by prayer. 

" Much talk, even on religion, fosters pride and destroys 
seriousness. O Lord, for Jesus' sake, give me grace to 
think much and speak little. Let me hourly examine 
myself. Keep me, Lord, from pride and presumption. 
Let me never be satisfied nor count myself safe except 
when humble, and calm, and solemn in mind. May I 
ever value prayer more than I have done. 

" Sabbath, December — , 1819, at Liverpool. Morn- 
ing, preached for Mr. Philip, from Isaiah i. 13-16. 



34 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

1. Blessing turned into a curse. 2. Test of this. 3- 
Remedy. 

" Preached in Spencer's pulpit. After meeting, stood on 
his grave ; dispersed the snow with my foot from his 
stone. 

" In the afternoon, heard Mr. Philip, from 2 Tim. iv. 18. 
.... I have found this to be a truth ; and may the 
Lord, by his Holy Spirit, deeply impress upon my mind 
that if the means are neglected grace will not thrive. 
4 Watch and pray.' 

" Monday, December — , 1819. At night, much de- 
sire and some feeble effort to wrestle with God ; wishing to 
be placed in some lonely situation ; but, then, Satan would 
find me out. Lord, make me content, and fit me for 
every duty. 

" Tuesday. In the morning, rather calm ; went out de- 
pending on the grace of God. The nature of my duty un- 
friendly to watchfulness, but I see clearly nothing else will 
secure victory. 

u Wednesday Morning. How pressing is sloth when one 
awakens ; how hard to bring the mind to fix upon God ; 
how malicious the devil ; how completely he manages my 
soul and distresses me until I. have recourse to God's Word, 
the Sword of the Spirit ! Lord, for thy sake, teach me 
more than ever to value thy Word ; and, oh, let thy Spirit 
accompany it for my sanctification ! I think it is my de- 
sire to live to God ; but so light, so vacant, so vain, so un- 
stable are all my thoughts and resolutions, that I dare not 
promise. Oh for a fulfilment of that Scripture, 4 The 
Lord will deliver me from every evil word, and preserve 
me unto his heavenly kingdom ! ' 

" Surely, the tongue is an unruly member, a world of 
iniquity, set on fire of hell. Lord, deliver me from it. 



JOURNAL. 85 

u Friday, December 17, 1819. Hard to keep the vain 
heart near to God in any duty, especially public duties, in 
a strange place. 

" Sabbath, December 19, 1819. Oh, the devices of 
Satan ! the danger of comfortable feelings ! — they make 
one think he is strong, and then Satan is ready to attack. 
.... Some hope in reading the twenty-fifth Psalm, and 
in prayer. 

" Tuesday Evening, December 21 This night, 

O Lord, my naked soul would fall upon thy mercy in 
Christ, and pray thee, for his dear name's sake, to accept 
of me, soul and body, as I vowed at N. H. Oh, let me no 
more wander ; sanctify and cleanse me, and prepare me for 
thy service, in dependence upon thy sovereign grace. 

u O God, search my heart ; let me know how I can ob- 
tain assurance of thy pardoning love. My soul would 
pant after thee, O adorable Saviour ! Surely the recovery 
of such a rebel will glorify thy matchless grace 

" . . . . Do I desire credit for what may be done, or is 
it my only desire that Christ may be exalted, and sinners 
saved ? O God, make my soul sincere, and pardon all 
the past ! 

" Wednesday, December 22. To-day very successful in 

behalf of the Society O blessed Saviour ! guide me 

by thy word and Spirit, and keep my feet from falling. 

" Sunday, December 26, 1819. Heard Mr. Philip, from 
Psalm < . Beauty of Holiness. 

" Afternoon. Preached for Mr. Philip, from Heb. ii. 3. 
Much fear, but I believe the Lord helped me. Heard Mr. 
Raffles. Powerful language and choice expressions, but 
too much motion of the body. Discourse from 1 Cor. xv. 
It w r as blessed to my soul. Oh, may all within me bless 
His holy name ! May I ever have the same confidence 



36 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

that He only designs to refine, not consume me. Faith is 
surely everything ; all things follow it. O God of mercy, 
I desire, on this last Sabbath of the year, to thank and adore 
thee for thy many favors. I would remember my engage- 
ments to be thine, if thou wilt keep me. My soul, remem- 
ber this and fear God. I feel to-night as if I should have 
strength supplied to bear me up. 

" O my soul, give not up your hold of God's mercy, 
nor his cause in which you are engaged. 

" Monday, December 27, 1819. Awoke to-day in a 
very comfortable state, with these words running through 
my mind, 6 Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou 
shalt be saved.' 

" Spoke at the Lyceum ; was surely helped ; then, oh, 
what pride ! Lord, guard me against this in future. I 
seem to hope that He will, at some period, reveal himself 
to me in love. At times, I am willing to be anything to 
have Christ, and faith in him ; again, aversion, indiffer- 
ence. Think often I was never converted. Well, now, 
let me admit this, — if not converted, how awful my latter 
end, — a hypocrite ! Oh for grace to know this, to taste 
the joys of salvation and the love of God ! Confused ideas 
of God and Christ ; too ready to take things at venture and 
hearsay ; proof of lukewarmness and want of saving faith. 
All worldly conversation no friend to grace. Word of God 
very precious. 

" January 25. Felt earnest desires after God in pray- 
er ; hard heart, in some measure removed. 

u Surely, nothing short of communion with God ought 
to satisfy a soul. This morning, I resolved, in God's pres- 
ence and by the entire help of his Spirit and grace, that I 
will desire this one thing and seek after it. 

" Surely Hart of London is right in saying, c A true 



JOURNAJL. 37 

Christian looks more to Christ crucified for comfort, than 
he does to the subduing and destruction of sin in his 
heart. 5 Oh, yes ! the latter, I find, may be carried on 
under a self-righteous covering, and Christ have no room 
there. None but Christ ! None but Christ ! 



" When conscience charges me with sloth, careless indif- 
ference about my soul, I feel a secret wish for the return 
of keen distress. I think this must be of Satan. In 
these distresses he finds opportunity of putting in his accu- 
sations ; — the door is open — accounts are looked into — 
and when it is a time of general reckoning, he can the 
more easily forge a weighty charge and give his advice 
when the soul finds not wherewithal to pay. I do not 
recollect that I have been prevailed upon to pray for dis- 
tress ; yet he would surely delight to see matters brought 
thus far, for this would be contrary to all Scripture — 
to all the Psalms — to the Lord's Prayer, &c. Surety, 
not distress and temptations so much as love to Christ, 
will constrain the soul to obedience. Let me be patient, 
and pray to God under distress, but not for it. 

" Jan. 28. Called on Mr. M. Unprofitable conversa- 
tion. Oh, when shall 1 be wise? When shall I despise 
the opinions of men ? Some men keep all their own mat- 
ters, and yet would like to know the minds of others. May 
I be decided and humble. May I love God's people, his 
word and prayer. At family worship, read in John hi. — 
light but no heat. 

" Monday, Jan. 31, 1820 Called on Dr. Love. 

Oh, how cursed pride runs through my every 

word and action ! Surely it must be destroyed in the bud, 
if ever. Oh, to attain to a command over my spirit, by 



88 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

the fear of God and belief in his omnipotence and omni- 



u 



'Feb. 5. Pride will feed upon anything rather than 

starve Oh, let me set much value upon prayer ! 

Astonishing the struggles of indwelling sin and corruption, 
— how subtle the enemy. Watch and pray, O my soul ! 

" Feb. 9. No command of myself ; sore struggle in the 
morning ; an army of doubters ; unbelief, fear, corruption, 
hardness of heart ; a mighty and painful storm ; slow to 
pray ; but prayer relieved me in the course of the day. . 
.... Pride is first born, then weak, then grows up, and 
being a little cherished, asks more. What is man ? Oh, 
may it be my inquiry, How do I appear in God's sight ? 
Am I pleasing him or no ? Oh, to have assurance of 
God's love in Christ ! Helped when reading Hart's 
Hymns. 

" Feb. 10 Convinced by the Scriptures, by 

Hart, by Dr. Stewart, by conscience, that nothing short 
of the personal appropriation of Christ's blood and right- 
eousness will do, or will be suffered to support the soul in 
the day of trial ; and by the help of God's Spirit I will seek 

after this Oh, what would I give for a touch of 

Christ's love ! Oh, such enmity, such hardness in the 

heart ; such a man of iniquity and ingratitude ! 

If God will have mercy upon me, I purpose to seek after 

communion with himself. Harp on the willow, 

indeed. Oh that I might know and feel for poor souls in 
like distress, and point them to the Saviour ! Surely this 
needs faith divine, a gift from God, — when Jesus hides 
his face, to trust him. ...... 

u Oh, what is man without command over his spirit ? 
What is man without prayer ? Empty, proud, vain, hypo- 
critical, exposed to every snare. O my Saviour, how 



JOURNAL. 39 

much I need forgiveness ! I see this night, and may I 
never forget this while I have my being, that I cannot 
trust myself one moment ; that grace, like the manna, will 
not keep, — must be gathered every day. And I see that 
grace need not be expected to defeat temptation, unless 
valued, and sought for by diligent and earnest prayer. 
Past help will not help in present trials and temptations. . 

Oh, how generously and mercifully the Spirit 

urges to compliance ! Oh, what false logic ! Were 

I less sinful, I could freely come ; yea, but not in that event 
as a vile and empty sinner, ready to perish, destitute of 
every hope save the mere mercy of God in Christ. 

" Wednesday, Feb. 16. At Dr. Love's to dinner ; may 
I, from his behavior, learn humility, — be swift to hear, 
&c. 

" With Dr. Chalmers. 

" March 2, 1820. When nothing troubles me I am quite 

careless. Surely I need a thorn in the flesh 

Alas, I almost forget poor New Brunswick ! Lord, 
quicken me ! ....... 

" Received great help, this evening, in reading the letter 
from my dear friend, Miss M. Oh, may God hear her 
prayer ! I am encouraged to hope that God will yet 
have mercy on N. B. Oh, how sweet the spirit of true 
missionary zeal ! 

" Sunday, March 12, 1820. Felt a sensible touch of love 
to the Saviour, or rather a most sweet and ardent desire 
after that love. Oh, this was pleasing ! May the blessed 
Spirit come and make my soul like the chariot of Amin- 
adab. Long have I been in captivity and darkness. 

u March 14, 1820. Great and kind Providence, — meet- 
ing with three young men, all partly inclined to go to N. B. 
..... Oh, when I look back to the origin of the So- 



40 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

ciety, to all the steps, &c, to the present, I say, surely it 
is of God. O my dear Redeemer, keep me humble, and 
make me sincere Oh, I desire to be His." 

When in Ireland, on the business of his mission, Mr. 
Dunbar's heart was with the lambs he had gathered into 
the fold in St. George. He writes to one : 

...... "I hope, my dear young friend, that the deceit- 
fulness of sin has not gained any encouraging victory over 
your soul ; that you are still living by faith on the bleed- 
ing wounds of our once suffering; but now exalted Re- 
deemer Do you feel your love to Jesus becom- 
ing cold, and your delight in prayer less ? If so, take 
heed, my dear friend ; your adversary is thus seeking to 
destroy you. Pray much and often ; tell the Saviour 
freely what you see and feel in yourself. He is very 
merciful. He knows what those temptations mean. 
Read much in the epistle to the Romans. Think much 
on the sufferings and (hath of Christ. Remember that 

' His wisdom, his power, his faithfulness stand 
Engaged to conduct you in safety to land ; 
He will not forget you ; he cannot forget 

What Calvary witnessed to cancel your debt ! ' 

(C I often speak of you to my friends in this country, and 
you have the good will of many you will never see in the 

flesh." 




CHAPTER V. 

Returns to Scotland — Black Harry — Embarks with his Family for America — Labors 
on Shipboard — Provisions Fail — His Faith in God — A Birth in the Steerage — 
Visit from a Whale — Sufferings from Hunger — God in the Storm. 

AVING accomplished the object of his visit to 
Great Britain with reference to the Missionary 
Society, Mr. Dunbar set sail, with his wife and 
three children, for America, in the fall of 1820. 
The particulars of the long and perilous voyage 
are well remembered by his eldest daughter, Mrs. Brush, 
wife of Rev. William Brush, who has prepared the follow- 
ing account of it, embracing also a few earlier incidents : 
" The first event of any importance I can recollect is 
our dear father's return from America, when Ave w T ere 
all roused from our sleep in the night to see him. In the 
morning he showed us Harry, the young black man he 
had brought over to take care of us on the sea. We had 
never seen a colored person before, and were almost terror- 
stricken at the strange phenomenon. Father gave us 
each a piece of silver for him, and made us stroke his 
black hand and talk to him, till we lost our fears, and very 
soon we were great friends. Harry was the son of a good 
woman in St. John, who had in some way procured her 
own freedom, with the privilege of purchasing her son's, if 
she could. When she heard that father was looking for 
some one to go home with him, she implored him to take 
Harry, and to beg his friends to buy him. This father 
did, raising the whole amount. Harry waited on us dur- 

4* (41) 



42 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

ing the voyage, and was most kind, attentive and obedient. 
Poor fellow ! He suffered all that we did on that terrible 
passage, reached home, and greeted his mother, a free and 
happy young man, only to lose his life by the same 
treacherous element from which we had just escaped. He 
had gone out, not long after his return, in a little row- 
boat, in the harbor of St. John, and was drowned within 
a hundred yards of the shore. The poor heart-broken 
mother could not rest till she came and lived with us in St. 
George. I mention Jenny and Harry only to show the 
deep interest our father always took in the slaves. It 
began with these two and ended only with life. 

" The next event which made any deep impression on my 
childish memory was the distress and anguish, venting 
itself in tears, of our grandmother Mitchel at parting with 
us. After we had all been kissed again and again, and 
pressed to her heart many times, we entered the carriage, 
the door was closed behind us, and the horses started. 
She ran after us, opened the door, and threw herself into 
the carriage in an agony of grief. It was with great diffi- 
culty that she was induced to go into the house while her 
youngest child was going away from her forever. Her 
swollen eyes and agonized countenance I shall never forget. 
That was the last we ever saw of our grandmother. 
From Glasgow- we took some kind of vessel for London- 
derry, and had a terrible night on the Irish Channel, the 
weather being stormy and the waves running high. 
Dear mother was much alarmed in prospect of the long 
voyage, when this short one was so fearful ; but the 
captain assured her that he had often crossed the Atlantic 
without encountering such winds and waves, and en- 
couraged her to believe that she was seeing the worst of 
the sea. But how false this kind prophecy proved ! 



JOURNAL. 43 

44 We embarked for America on board a ship called, 
i The Halifax Packet.' I remember standing upon the 
deck while father was attending to his luggage, and 
watching the sailors shovelling potatoes into the hold 
with a loud 4 Heave ho ! ' at every effort. In my child- 
ish curiosity, I asked a gentleman standing by me, 
what those men wanted of so many potatoes. He 
replied that the ship had not ballast enough to keep her 
steady on the sea ; that stones were generally used, 
but the captain could get none, so they had to make po- 
tatoes answer the purpose. We little knew that this 
lack of proper ballast and the substituting of potatoes for 
stones was part of the great plan of a kind Providence for 
saving the lives of all on that ship. 

u I have no recollection of any occurrence on shipboard 
until we came to suffer from hunger and thirst, except 
that father used to preach on the Sabbath when the pas- 
sengers could keep their seats, and sometimes when 
they could not do so very comfortably, and that he used to 
walk the deck arm in arm with gentlemen, in earnest 
conversation, which I have since learned was on the one 
subject which wholly engrossed his mind, — the salva- 
tion of the soul through the blood of Christ. Through 
this daily prayerful effort, several souls were brought to 
God, among whom was Captain Leary, a Roman 
Catholic, who was a passenger. A letter is found 
among father's papers, from a young man, written while 
a student in the Princeton Seminary, referring to his 
conversation with him, then a little boy, as the means of 
drawing his attention to his state before God, and leading; 
him to Christ. Some of the sailors were also converted 
through his instrumentality. Captain Leary was bap- 
tized by Dr. Maclay, on his arrival in New York, and is, 



44 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

we believe, now living to bear his testimony of Christ 
among those to whose creed of prayers and penances 
he once subscribed. Who shall know until the day 
when the books are opened, what results have followed 
those labors of love on the mighty deep ! 

"'The Halifax Packet' proved wholly unsea worthy,' 
and after being out a month, was driven back by wind 
and wave to within a hundred or two miles of the Irish 
coast. She was provisioned for only eight weeks, and 
when the captain saw how things were going and that 
the passage would be much longer than usual, he began 
to allowance all on board except the sailors, saying, 
' My men have to work, and they must be well fed.' 
Cabin and steerage passengers were put on a level in 
the distribution, and all submitted to the privation with 
that sympathy toward each other which common misery 
induces. At length the day came when the captain was 
forced to announce that the last grain of rice, barley, flour, 
oatmeal, meat, and fish had been given out, — nothing re- 
maining between us and starvation except the potatoes 
in the hold. To add to the terror of our situation, we 
were now at the mercy of the waves, not knowing in what 
part of the ocean we were. The compass having been 
washed overboard, the captain had no means of making 
his reckoning. Now came the last resort. The potatoes, 
which certainly had not improved in quality by lying 
many weeks in the damp hold, were brought up, and each 
one — there were fifty passengers, and a crew of nineteen 
men — was allowanced to four potatoes and a gill of 
water a day ! For sixteen weeks we existed on this poor fare, 
until the sailors became so weak that they could no longer 
work the ship. The captain then called on every man on 
board to take his turn at whatever was required to be done. 



A BIRTH IN THE STEERAGE. 45 

Then the gentlemen from the cabin and state-rooms as well 
as the poor men from the steerage, came into the new ser- 
vice, each taking his turn at the pump ; for the ship was 
leaking badly. 

u I remember well how father used to comfort our dear 
mother and all the other weak and timid ones who flocked 
round him during this terrific season. He would repeat 
portions of Scripture, and sing hymns, and pray with 
those who sent for him to any other part of the ship — 
and they were many, — leading the mind up from our 
trials, to God, who cares for the weakest and most helpless 
of his creatures. How often did he refer to Paul's ship- 
wreck, reminding those who listened, that not one soul 
on board perished, but every one was, in God's own time, 
brought safely to land. ' So, 5 he said, ; I firmly believe 
it will be here with us.' He used every circumstance, 
however trivial, which occurred, to strengthen his own 
faith as well as theirs. One morning it was announced 
that a babe had been born in the steerage ; and, strange 
as it may seem, this caused great joy among all classes in 
the ship ; and father exclaimed : ' I do believe that God 
intends to save our whole company ; for, instead of tak- 
ing away a single life by sickness, starvation, or accident, 
he has added another to our number.' He then proposed 
that any one who felt that he could spare one potato a 
day, or even half a one, should send it to the poor Irish 
mother, who had now another life, beside her own, to 
save. She had a full supply after this, whoever else was 
hungry. The boy, by request of the passengers, was 
named for the captain. 

" One day an immense whale came alongside our 
ship, and began performing strange antics, not so enter- 
taining to those who understood the danger as to us chil- 



46 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

dren, who amused ourselves by throwing sticks and bits 
of paper on his glossy back ; the sea being, at the time, 
very calm. He had to be very carefully watched for 
twenty-four hours, lest he might overturn the vessel, by 
getting under it. The captain told us the whale had 
mistaken the ship for his mate, and would not leave till he 
discovered his mistake. After it grew dark, many of the 
passengers came to our state-room, saying that they could 
not sleep while they knew he was there making the sea 
foam around us. Then father reminded them that ' God, 
who kept Jonah alive three days inside of a whale, could 
surely take care of us who were on the outside.' He as- 
sured them that not a hair of their heads should perish ; 
and I doubt not that was his prayer all through the night. 
About daylight the whale moved off, and left us easy as 
far as he was concerned. 

" How often have I seen our father, in this time of dis- 
tress, eat the skins of the potatoes that we might have a 
larger share ; and often he and our dear mother would 
not taste water for days, lest we should cry for it at night 
and they have none to give us. When rain fell, which 
was very seldom, every one ran on deck with a sheet or 
any thing which would hold water, to catch, if possible, 
a few drops of the precious liquid. I can call to mind, 
now, the yellowish-black color of the water, and its tarry 
taste, from the ropes and rigging through which it passed 
before reaching us. 

" We had a small cabin, with a table of our own, 
where poor Harry waited on us. Sometimes, when he 
would bring in the one dish and set it in the middle of 
the table, father would say : ' Well, Harry, my boy, how 
do you think the potatoes are holding out ? ' Once, he 



FAITH IN GOD. 47 

replied : c There are not many left, sir. I looked down 
to-day when the steward was taking them out.' 

" s Well, Harry,' he answered, ' the Saviour knows all 
about us ; just what spot of the ocean we are in, and just 
what we need most ; and he could, if he saw fit, multiply 
the potatoes in the hold when no one saw him, just as he 
did the loaves and fishes : or he could send a vessel along- 
side, as he has done once ; or he can bring us to shore be- 
fore the last potato is gone. He will take care of us, 
Harry.' 

" Once, when the dish came in, my little sister said : 
' Don't ask a blessing to-day, dear father, I'm so hungry.' 

" 6 O yes, my dear,' he replied, ' we must ask a short 
blessing. I will not preach a sermon, but just thank 
God that we took potatoes instead ot stones for ballast ; 
for, you know, we could not have eaten stones.' 

" How vividly come up to my mind the gentle tones 
of our mother's voice, as she used to quiet our infant 
fears. In the darkness of the night, when no light could 
be kept for the wind and spray, and when, as I have since 
heard her say, she was expecting that every plunge of 
the groaning ship would be the last, she used to sing to 
us, — 

' The wondering world inquires to know 
Why I should love my Saviour so ; ' 

' Jesus, and shall it ever be, 

A mortal man ashamed of thee ? ' 

" And also many of the beautiful Scotch Paraphrases, 
as, — 

' The Lord my Shepherd is, 
My wants he will supply ; 
Through pastures green he leadeth me, 
The quiet waters by. 



48 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

My soul he doth restore again ; 

And me to walk doth make 
Within the paths of righteousness, 

Even for his own name's sake. 

1 Yea, though I walk in death's dark shade, 

Yet will I fear none ill ; 
For Thou art with me, and thy rod 

And staff, me comfort still ; 
My table Thou hast furnished 

In presence of my foes ; 
My head Thou dost with oil anoint ; 

And my cup overflows. 

' Goodness and mercy all my life 

Shall surely follow me ; 
And in God's house, forever more, 

My dwelling-place shall be/ 

" She used often to gather us around her in her own berth, 
for much of the time it was too boisterous to sit or stand, 
and there amuse us with Bible stories. She told us of 
Daniel, who was safe even in a lion's den, and of the 
three men who were unharmed in the fiery furnace ; and 
of Elijah, whom the ravens fed when hungry, — all be- 
cause God was with them, and cared for them. Once, I 
remember, she told us many of the names given to Jesus, 
in the Bible ; as 6 Saviour,' ' Immanuel,' ' Son of Man,' 
1 The Mighty God,' fc Prince of Peace,' ' The Mighty 
One of Jacob.' 

" This last seemed to my childish mind the best of all ; 
and after that, when the winds would howl louder and the 
vessel plunge more fearfully than usual, I used to say, 
4 O dear mother, do tell us about the Mighty One of 
Jacob ! ' And, now, as I look back, it seems that I must 
have had strong childish faith in this Mighty One, who is 
able to save to the uttermost all who call upon him. 

u One scene made an impression on my mind never to be 



GOD IN THE STORM. 49 

effaced. We had passed an awful night, and as none were 
able to sleep, the cabin-passengers had been going about all 
night to each other's state-rooms, trying, by conversation 
and prayer, to inspire themselves and others with hope. 

" At daylight, our father went on deck to learn the cause 
of the trouble. He soon returned, saying to mother, ' Oh, 
my dear, I wish you were able to go on deck for one mo- 
ment ! But as you are not, I must take the children up, 
one at a time, that they may see the wonderful works of 
the Almighty God ! They will never forget this sight ! ' 

" He then took me in his arms to the top of the cabin- 
stairs. We were in a tremendous gale ; the waves, 
covered with white, boiling foam, seemed higher than our 
masts' heads, and the roar of the ocean w T as truly awful. 
The laboring ship mounted a tremendous wave, and then 
w r ent down as if to be swallowed by the angry sea ; but 
soon she rose again on another wave, and then sank to rise 
again and again. I instinctively turned away, and grasp- 
ing my father round the neck, implored him to take me 
down to mother. I was so terrified that he did not think 
it best to take my little sisters on deck. I remember, while 
he stood there with me in his arms, as I turned from the 
sight, he urged me to look at the sea, saying, ' See what 
a powerful God our God is. He who can make these 
waves and keep them within their bounds, can prevent 
their dashing our weak vessel to pieces ; and, if he chooses, 
he can say to them at any moment, Peace, be still, and 
they w r ill all sink away and lie quiet around us.' 

" One day, after we had been out a very long time, it be- 
ing beautifully clear and calm, the sailors sprang into the 
long-boat and rowed round the vessel, to see what condition 
her hull was in. She had before this sprung aleak, so that 
all the male passengers had had to take their turns at the 

5 



50 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

pumps to keep her from filling. But, suddenly, from some 
cause not discovered, the leak had stopped. The examin- 
ation revealed the cause. They found the whole outside 
of the ship covered with little shell-fish, called barnacles. 
They were very hard and glossy, having all the tints of the 
rainbow intermingled, like those in the pearl-oyster. The 
shells were so closely set together that they covered the 
whole sides and bottom of the ship, like a coat-of-mail, 
forming a mass impervious to water. This was what had 
stopped the leak, and prevented others. The sailors picked 
off several barnacles from a part of the hull where they 
could be spared, and brought them on board for the passen- 
gers to see. Father showed them to us, saying, ' You see 
how God can bring his own carpenters and ship-joiners 
across the ocean with him, and how he could make them 
work without even the sound of a hammer or broad axe. 
This shows that God means to save us from the angry 
sea.' " 







CHAPTER VI. 

Land Ahead — Wrecked on the Coast of Bermuda — Kind Reception — Letters — 
Preaching on the Island. 

T length the potatoes failed ; and one day the 
captain told the passengers that there were only 
enough in the hold to supply them twenty-four 
hours longer. 

" Amid the sad forebodings which followed this 
communication, a loud cry broke from the sailors on the 
deck, echoing through the cabin and steerage, — 'Land 
ahead ! Land ahead ! ' 

u This was about sunset. The news was too joyful to be 
believed, until several gentlemen went up as far as they 
could into the rigo-ing to see for themselves. Our sound- 
ings also proved that we were nearing some shore ; but the 
captain feared to approach lest he might be driven on the 
rocks during the night. 

" The flag of distress, which had been floating for months, 
was first descried from an eminence called 6 Signal Hill,' 
on St. George's, one of the Bermuda Islands. None on 
board could tell what land we had in sight, neither could 
the sailors guide the disabled ship into the harbor. So, 
now, after this bright dream of joy, there were fears that 
we might be drifted out again to the open sea before 
help could reach us. Lest the tattered signal of distress 
might not be discerned, they hoisted, in addition, red 

(51) 



52 DUNCAN DUNBAK. 

shirts and blue trousers of the sailors and bright garments 
of the little children. 

" The little Independent Church on the island had been 
looking daily for a ship from England bringing a mission- 
ary to labor among them. Some pious women of their 
number, in their loving, prayerful watch for this man 
of God, saw our signal, and at once hurried to report, w A 
wreck in the harbor.' 

" About two o'clock, p.m., on Saturday, April 13th, 1821, 
one hundred black mariners, in white jackets, put off from 
the shore and came to us. They filled two long-boats, and, 
by fastening ropes to our vessel, towed her into the harbor 
of St. George's, the most easterly of the group forming the 
Bermuda Islands. The passengers, for sanitary reasons, 
were not allowed to land until after the Sabbath ; but the 
inhabitants could not wait till Monday to relieve us. They 
came down, bringing fruits, wines, crackers, with every 
other delicacy they could procure, directing that the 
clergymen, of whom there were several, with their fami- 
lies, should be first served. The captain, however, through 
his speaking-trumpet, forbade any one tasting an article 
without his orders, as the least imprudence would cost 
them their lives. He then gave each one a quarter of an 
orange and a teaspoonful of wine, and after a while a little 
more wine, with a bit of cracker, repeating this until the 
stomach could bear the nourishment. 

" On Monday, the passengers were all taken off the ship, 
and borne away as the guests of the sympathizing people. 
The ministers were taken home by the wealthiest inhabi- 
tants of the island and entertained like princes. I remem- 
ber w^e slept in beds draped with the richest damask hang- 
ing from gilded canopies, and ate at tables laden with gold 
and silver service, and attended by many blacks. As our 



PREACHING. ' 58 

garments were nearly all ruined by dampness as well as by 
the wear of six months on the sea, dress-makers were em- 
ployed, until our party of missionaries going to the Prov- 
inces were fitted out with more than the minister's usual 
allowance. 

wfc Our dear father preached many times there, and the peo- 
ple flocked round him to hear him talk of divine things. 1 

1 Mr. Donald McDonald, an early and dearly beloved friend of Mr. Dun- 
bar, and whose hospitable dwelling was his home while in Glasgow on ihe 
business of the mission, kindly sends a letter, written after this terrible pas- 
sage by his brother-in-law, Mr. Matheson, a fellow-passenger on board the 
ill-fated ship. It is dated Sutter Hall, St. George, N. B., the residence of 
the Hon. Hugh McKay, a warm friend of Mr. Dunbar, and an officer of the 
New Brunswick Missionary Society. 

"Mr. Dunbar preached several times during our continuance on the 
Island, and gave universal satisfaction to all classes. People flocked from 
all quarters to hear him, and much praise has been bestowed on him by the 
editors of the Bermuda journals in two or three of their numbers, one part 
of which is as follows : — 

"'Rev. D. Dunbar preached from Genesis xlix. 10. "The sceptre 
shall not depart from Judah, nor a lawgiver from between his feet, till Shi- 
loh come ; and unto him shall the gathering of the people be." It was 
one of the most faithful, interesting, and able sermons that perhaps was ev- 
er preached in Bermuda. What made it so interesting, was its being so 
happily appropriate ; and, what was far better, it was attended with the di- 
vine blessing, and made the power of God to many present. The congre- 
gation was very attentive, and deeply affected by the truths they heard. 
Many could say with one of old, " Lord, it is good for us to be here." ' " 

In another part of his letter, Mr. Matheson says : " By the instrumentali- 
ty of our godly friend, Mr. Dunbar, in preaching, exhortations, and prayer, 
a passenger in the cabin, as wicked and profane a person as ever I knew, 
was, I trust, savingly converted to Christ, sometime before our arrival at 
Bermuda. The wonderful change, both in his language and deportment, 
was so remarkable as almost to exceed belief; proving the hand of God to 
be in the work. " 

In the memoir of Mrs. Winslow, written by her son, Rev. Oetavius 
Wiuslow, is a letter from the Rev. Mr. Cross to Rev. John Arundel of the 
London Missionary Society. 

"St. George's, Bermuda, June 20, 1821. 

" I am happy to inform you, my dear brother, that our chapel was opened 



54 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

" When the wreck was towed into that friendly harbor, 
the Bermudians all gathered barnacles from her sides a? 

on the 18th of April, under peculiar circumstances of delight and gratitude 
towards Him who conducts all things after the counsel of his own will. 

" Previous to its opening, my mind was a great deal exercised respecting 
the service of that important day. I had no brother to whom I could say, 
1 Come and help me ; ' I stood alone ; and my feelings often overwhelmed 
me. My fears, however, were very singularly dispersed by our kind and ever- 
gracious God. On Saturday, previous to the 18th, a ship appeared in sight 
off the island, hoisting signals of distress ; and a report was soon circulated 
that she was full of passengers, and among them several ministers, in a state 
of starvation, six months from Liverpool, bound for New York. 

" On Sabbath afternoon, the ship with great difficulty came within anchor- 
age off the island. Some of my friends went on board with provisions, 
and found the passengers in great distress, yet filled with consolation, and 
many of them with joy and peace in believing. As the passengers were no 
strangers to the language of Canaan, my friends were soon introduced to 
the Rev. Duncan Dunbar, a Baptist minister, with his wife and three 
children; Rev. Mr. Grey, a Presbyterian minister, and his wife (to us par- 
ticularly interesting, because we soon learned that she had been brought to 
the saving knowledge of the truth from the circumstances of the voyage), 
and Mr. West, a teacher, a very pious young man, and son to Rev. Mr. 
West, of Dublin. They stated, in brief, the distressing circumstances to my 
friends, who would not then listen to their ' tale of woe ' before they came for 
some fresh supplies (circumstances prevented the missionaries from landing 
on the Sabbath, and my duties from seeing them that evening). It appeared 
they had been at sea nearly six months ; for four months they had been on the 
allowance of five potatoes per day, and for three weeks had had scarcely a 
drop of water in their mouths. Such were the cries of many of the children 
on board, that they had been obliged to deny themselves what they could 
obtain only from the clouds, to satisfy the thirst of the little ones. They 
were, however, in good health ; and were constrained to say, ' Though we 
have had nothing, we have possessed all things/ 

" The divine presence had evidently blessed the labors of these devoted ser- 
vants of Jesus to the hopeful conversion of several. 

"Early on Monday morning, I went off, with several of my friends, to the 
ship, and was soon in the midst of the interesting mission family. I found 
them perfectly happy, yea, rejoicing in the prospect of meeting some Chris- 
tian friends in a strange country. 

"During their stay with us, we had our new chapel opened ; Mr. Dunbar 
preached in the morning, from Genesis xxviii. 17, and Mr. Grey in the 



LETTERS. 55 

curiosities, and it was said that in spots where they were 
taken off, a strong man could put his foot through her 
timbers, so thoroughly were they decayed. She was 
there condemned, and sold for a paltry sum, to be stripped 
of her old iron. It will be wondered at that so miserable 
a craft should have been sent out on a winter voyage, so 
richly freighted with human life. We have been told by 

evening, from Zechariah xiv. 16, 17, to a very full and attentive congrega- 
tion. The collection amounted to eighty dollars. Our friends remained 
with us nearly three weeks, and their circumstances and labors made a deep 
impression on many. Every day endeared these missionaries more and 
more to the friends of Jesus in this place. Fain would we have said, ' Abide 
with us, for there is room ; ' and glad would they have been to say, 'We will 
continue with you ; ' but the piercing cry of the red men of the woods, ' No 
white man teach red man/ had penetrated their hearts. ' For these/ said 
they, ' we have left all : and for these we must leave you.' They left us on 
Good Friday, and we are daily expecting to hear of their arrival." 

Mrs. Isabella Holt then a resident of the island, but since well known 
in New York, writes from Paris, where she now resides : 

" I was not at home at the time of their arrival in Bermuda, but received 
from my own honored mother all the particulars of that deeply interesting 
occurrence. One day a nearly dismasted vessel was seen approaching our 
little island, sometimes almost going into the breakers, and then passing 
again into deep water. This process was kept up some time, and then a 
boat was manned in our beautiful little harbor to go out to the odd-looking 
craft in the offing. Among those who volunteered first, were two youths 
of seventeen, John T. Fisher and my own dear adopted son, William 
George Miller, afterward pastor of a Baptist church in New York city, and 
subsequently in Essex, Connecticut, whence he departed to his home in the 
city of many mansions. The ship was found without a rudder, and had 
been six months at sea, a good deal of the time without rudder or proper 
masts, drifting hither and thither. On board were Rev. Duncan Dunbar 
and family, Rev. Mr. Grey and wife, Mr. West, and other Presbyterian 
missionaries to the British Provinces. ..... 

" While they were at St. George's, a little place of worship built by the In- 
dependent church, under the pastoral care of Rev. Henry Cross, was opened 
fey my beloved brother Dunbar, who endeared himself to all who knew him, 
in Bermuda, by his warm-heartedness. 

" Not one of that little church now lives on earth, but many of them, I 
know, live in heaven/ " 
5* 



56 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

Miss S., of New York, a kind friend of our father's, whose 
father was a fellow-passenger, that the ship was finely 
fitted up and well insured, although wholly un seaworthy, 
and that after the usual time out, not being reported as 
arriving, the policy was claimed and paid. Eternity will 
reveal whether or not the love of gold led her owners to 
bring these awful sufferings and perils on the innocent who 
trusted in their honor." 



CHAPTER VII. 

Voyage from Bermuda to St. John — St. George — Renewal of Pastoral Work — Preaching 
in "Gaelic" — Home-trials in the New World — His Generosity — Letter — Cross- 
ing the Bay. 

tPTER leaving Bermuda, we were nearly a month 
in reaching St. John, where we were most cor- 
dially welcomed by the friends our dear father had 
made there. Crowds flocked to see him, urging 
him to remain and preach to them. Strong men, 
when they met him after the awful perils he had passed 
through on the sea, threw their arms around his neck 
and embraced him. These friends did all in their 
power to manifest their affection for him, and for his sake 
heaped favors on his family. The ladies, knowing that 
our mother was to begin house-keeping in the New 
World, presented her with many articles for this pur- 
pose. She had never before seen a patchwork quilt, 
and was much amused by the various combinations of 
white cotton and bright calico. Several of these were 
made and sent her as presents before the winter set in. 
One of these fancy articles surely deserves a place 
in family history, as it assisted in educating us children. 
It was made of large pocket-handkerchiefs, some of them 
printed in India ink, and others in red and blue. They 
contained the whole of Burns' ' Cotter's Saturday Night,' 
with pictures representing each scene. In the bitter 
winter mornings, while the fires were being made, we 
three little girls used to sit up in bed admiring these 

(57) 



58 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

pictures, while I, the only one competent to do so, spelled 
out the story of the home scene, where, surrounded by her 
children, 

' The mother, wi* her needle and her shears, 
Gars auld claes look amaist as weeFs the new ; 

' But hark ! a rap comes gently to the door, 

Jennie, wha kens the meaning o' the same, 
Tells how a neebor lad came o'er the moor 
To do some errands and convey her hame. 

'The cheerful supper done, wi' serious face 
They round the ingle form a circle wide ; 
The sire turns o'er wi' patriarchal grace 
The big ha' Bible, ance his father's pride.' 

But, sad to tell, every verse and sometimes every line 
had been cut into to form w Goosepath,' or 4 Job's Trouble ;' 
so, where the last word of a line was gone, we had to guess 
it out by the rhyme. 

" The short voyage between St. John and St. George, N. 
B., was made in a long open flat-boat. Six or eight 
sailors sat at one end rowing, while our family occupied 
the other. Our dear father enlivened the time, which 
would otherwise have been wearisome, by conversation 
with the sailors, telling them many incidents of life on the 
sea, which had come under his own notice, and asking, 
about their different experiences. In the evening, which 
was one of the brightest moonlight, he sang devotional 
hymns, and talked to the men of those things which would 
make for their everlasting peace. My little sisters were both 
asleep, but I entertained myself by putting out my hands 
in the water to catch the large white chips which came 
floating down the river from the ship-yards on either side. 

" It was long past midnight when we landed on a sandy 
beach in front of the residence of Captain Miliken, where 



PASTORAL WORK. 59 

father had promised to bring his family. The large 
house, standing on an eminence very near the water, was 
lighted in every part, as if to give a welcome to the eye 
before the ear could hear it. A most bountiful repast was 
waiting us, and nearly all the church were gathered there 
to greet their beloved pastor, and to cause his sensitive 
wife to forget, if possible, that she was a stranger in a 
strange land. Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, 
none seemed in haste to go to their homes. They sang 
hymns and offered prayer and thanksgiving to God, who, 
after so many perils and such long separation, had brought 
pastor and people together again. In those days, when 
ministers were few, people were hungry for the gospel, 
and rejoiced at sight of a servant of God. 

" I remember many things which convince me that my 
father's labors were greatly blessed at that time. People 
came from all quarters to talk with him of the concerns 
of the soul. The young, the gay, and the wealthy used 
to come by night to tell of their distress, having tried in 
vain to drive away the impression made by some sermon. 
Then he would tell them it w T as the Spirit of God work- 
ing effectually on their hearts, and would warn them not 
to grieve the Spirit. Often he would read to them such 
portions of Pilgrim' s Progress as might meet their case, 
and show them the way in which God leads those He is 
drawing to himself. 

■ " He had much in his own experience wherewith to 
comfort and encourage others, having passed through many 
and strange perplexities in coming to Christ. He used 
then to preach four times on the Sabbath, three times to 
his own people, and once to the Highlanders, who came 
up the river from Masquerine in their long-boats to hear, 
at the close of the morning-sermon in English, the gospel 



60 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

in their native tongue. Father never took a seat at table 
Sunday noon, but stood up, taking some very light refresh- 
ment, and hastening back to meet his countrymen. He 
spent the intermission pressing upon them the necessity of 
a change of heart, and teaching them precious truths to 
which they were strangers. He held meetings almost 
everv night in different neighborhoods, sometimes at lono; 
distances from home. I have heard him say that, so great 
was the desire to hear a sermon, he had known poor women 
to walk five miles through the snow, carrying an infant all 
the way in their arms, for this privilege. Toward the 
6 poor Indians,' as he always called them, his heart was 
drawn out in deep pity ; and he preached Jesus to them in 
the wigwam, by the wayside, or in his own home, which 
latter place their shrewdness soon showed them was a 
grand place for beggars ! Our dear mother, fancying that 
they were still hostile to the pale-luces, took great care 
never to offend them, while her kind heart prompted her 
to do them all the good in her power. I w T ell remember 
their frequent and protracted visits, and the great incon- 
venience they caused in the kitchen. As many as six have 
come at one time, and, seating themselves on the floor, 
worked on their beads or baskets, and nursed their pap- 
pooses, as if feeling quite at home ! Preparing a comfort- 
able meal for the family was, under these circumstances, 
no trivial undertaking. If father was in the house, he 
would go to them, and say, ' Well, brother, sister, what 
do you want to-day ? ' 

" They would usually reply, ' Ugh, me want pork, me 
want Indian meal, me want tea, me w r ant sugar ; ' and so 
on to the end of the list of human wants ; for they were 
very indolent, and most persistent beggars. 

" Father would always say, ' Come, mother dear, share 



PASTORAL WORK. 61 

your comforts with the poor Indian. God will provide for 
us ; you know there is no want to them that fear him.' 
Then he would ask them if they had ever heard of Jesus, 
who came from heaven and died on the cross to save 
the poor Indian. He would try to show them that 
they, as well as white men, were great sinners, and needed 
this great Saviour. They usually replied, ' No, no, 
brother, me good Indian ; me no steal ; me no kill white 
man ; me hunt ; me fish ; me be very good ! ' 

" fc Ah,' he would say, w you want everything but your 
greatest need, the blood of Jesus, to cleanse you from 
your sins. Shall I go to your wigwams and tell you more 
about the blessed Saviour, who loves and pities the poor 
Indian so much ? ' 

u They would stare vacantly at each other, give a grunt, 
and an indifferent nod of the head, fill their pipes, and 
smoke, with their eyes cast on the floor. Often did he go, 
on these meagre invitations, to their homes, and, with a 
blanket round him, sit by their fires, no doubt buying their 
attention with presents, while from the abundance of the 
heart his mouth spoke of Christ and salvation. He sailed 
with them in their canoes, and in all ways sought their 
confidence, that he might lead them to the Lamb of God. 

" It was the custom of our father, when going from home 
for a few days, to take one of us with him for company, as 
well as to relieve our dear mother. Well do I remember 
his teachings at these times. When riding through the 
forests, or gliding with our Canadian pony and sleigh over 
the frozen river, instruction and amusement were most 
charmingly blended. He would tell me the names of the 
trees, and the various uses men made of their wood, from 
the cradle to the coffin. 6 The cross on which our blessed 
Saviour hung,' he once said, ' was a tree, fresh, and 

6 



62 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

young, and green, like one of these. God knew exactly 
on what spot of earth that one would grow, what man 
should cut it down, and for what purpose it w T ould be used. 
He knew all this before the world, with its mountains, 
rivers, and forests, was made. 

" Then he told me how God provided for people in coun- 
tries where trees could not grow for the cold. Fierce 
winds would blow through the forests of Maine, tearing up 
great trees by the roots. These would float down the 
rivers and be carried round by the Gulf Stream to Ice- 
land and other treeless countries. Thus the God who 
made them grow could send them where he pleased, on his 
own waters, by his own winds. When riding on the 
rivers, he used to tell us how God turned the waters into 
ice, that we could cross where there were no bridges, and 
that the trout and other fish, which liked the cold, could 
come to us in place of those which swam off to warmer 
waters ; thus giving as a variety for food. 

" Long before we had ever heard of the c Botany,' 
' Philosophy,' or ; Natural History,' over which we 
groaned in after days, our minds were stored with pleasant 
lessons in many of the sciences. 

■ u How does the sweet, patient face of our beloved mother 
rise before me, as she passed through the terrors of that 
first northern winter, all unused as she w T as to domestic 
toil ; and often, from the scarcity of servants in those days, 
dependent for weeks on the young girls of the congrega- 
tion, who came to aid her for love's sake. 

" Coming as she did from the temperate Lowlands of 
Scotland, we can hardly realize her trials here. With no 
stove, furnace or range, but only the broad, open fire- 
place, — the bread frozen like stone, — the milk a solid cake, 
and eggs like balls of ice, — it was no easy matter to heat a 



HIS GENEROSITY. 63 

house and prepare a warm breakfast for a family of little 
children. Often have I seen her shed tears at this time, 
when speaking of her home, her mother and her sister ; 
but I know they were not tears of repining. She went 
bravely to the work before her, learning and practising 
those domestic arts in which it is the glory of American 
women to excel.' 9 

In a time-worn book of memoranda we find an allu- 
sion to a visit of Mr. D. to a family whose father had 
received a severe wound while cutting lumber. To his 
surprise, he found them in straitened circumstances ; and 
his heart was deeply grieved for them. He remained, at 
their urgent request, to tea ; thus showing himself the 
friend, rather than the patron ; and offered them those 
blessed consolations which were ever uppermost in his 
heart. But, after commending them to the never-failing 
compassion of Jesus, he could not leave them only saying, 
"Be ye warmed and be ye clothed." He says, " I 
felt constrained to give them a guinea." 

The people of the Provinces, at that time, depended 
almost wholly on England for their family stores ; it being 
not only expensive, but difficult, to procure them from the 
States. At one time the supplies were very low in St. 
George, and the people expecting to replenish them on 
the arrival of a looked-for ship, belonging to Captain Mil- 
iken. After long and anxious delay, news came that she 
had been wrecked, and her cargo all lost. There was not 
a little perplexity in the community, as the winter had set 
in with all its provincial severity, making it almost im- 
possible to team provisions from St. Andrews. There was 
no sugar in the stores ; and the sick felt the need of this 



64 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

for their medicines, &c. " Mr. Dunbar," so says a dear 
sister, then in that church, and now enjoying a vigorous 
old age, in Eastport, " had, at that time, a barrel of sugar, 
which he at once began to divide amono; such as needed 
it, whether rich or poor. Some one kindly remonstrated, 
telling him he would need it in his own family before the 
winter was over ; when he replied : ' None of the sick 
people shall want sugar as long as there is any in my 
house ; and, when this is gone, Captain Miliken will come 
home in the other ship with more.' And so it was. His 
bread was always given, and his water sure ; and the days 
were few when he had not enough and to spare to those 
who needed." 

Nearly all those early friends, who loved and labored 
with him there, have preceded him to heaven ; but their 
children live and remember his hand upon their head, and 
his genial smile of love. Mrs. McKean, then one of the 
lambs of his fold, writes of him : " Oh, how many dear 
memories are called up ; but they are like those of a pleas- 
ant dream, too indistinct to be committed to paper. I 
well remember the interest he felt in the poor Millicite 
Indians, who lived in their little village, a few miles from 
Eastport, on the Passamaquoddy Bay. They used to 
come to St. George every year, in their canoes, to hunt, 
fish, and make baskets. He also visited the Mic Mac 
tribe, up the St. John river. He thought of taking a 
little Millicite boy home with him to Scotland, to be edu- 
cated ; but was obliged to relinquish his plan for want 
of means, after gaining the consent of the parents. 

" There were, at that time, a number of Scotch High- 
landers living near the mouth of the Magquadavic river, 
four or five miles from the village. After preaching his 
sermon in English, he used to repeat it to the Gaelic por- 



CROSSING THE BAY. 65 

tion of his hearers in their native tongue. Although I 
did not understand a word of it myself, the eager counte- 
nances of the men and women, as they listened, inter- 
ested me greatly ; but more especially did the singing of 
the psalms in Gaelic, which I shall never forget. Aged 
Highlanders walked between thirty and forty miles to see 
and converse with Mr. Dunbar, from the parishes of St. 
James and St. David, not far from the St. Croix river, so 
great was their love for him and for the music of their 
mother tongue. 

"It was under the preaching of your beloved father, 
that I received my first religious impressions. Oh, what 
earnest, loving appeals, what indefatigable labors were his ! " 

His labors here were very great, among his own people, 
and those almost beyond reach, whom he had adopted into 
his flock ; but neither weariness nor danger had power to 
deter him. At one time, he had an engagement to 
preach in a destitute place, — probably near Eastport, — 
which he mentioned as " across the bay." The waves 
ran very high after a storm ; and no white man was will- 
ing to row him over. Prudence seemed to forbid any at- 
tempt at fulfilling his promise. But the same bold spirit 
which led him in boyhood to mount the untamed colt, and 
afterwards to dare the ghosts of the Gaick mountain, 
now impelled him on in a better cause. By the offer of 
half a guinea, he induced an Indian and his squaw to row 
him over and back in a canoe. When about half way 
across, their pulls at the oar ceased, and the canoe came 
to a dead stop. The waves being very boisterous, he 
concluded they were resting from the hard toil. They 
laid down their oars, folded their arms, and muttered 
some mysterious words to each other ; and then, with 
their stolid countenances cast down, sat perfectly motion- 



66 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

less, as if their life's work was accomplished. Being una- 
ble to converse with them, Mr. Dunbar tried by signs to 
impel them forward ; but they only stared at him, as if 
wondering at his earnestness, and muttered again. He 
tried every device to rouse them, and had begun to think 
he should lose both his meeting and his gold, when the 
stoical oarsman growled out all the English he probably 
knew, — ' More money.' Silver was offered; but he 
shook his head in dogged obstinacy, never relenting till 
he saw another piece of gold, when they both caught up 
their oars, and with desperate labor brought him to the 
shore. His audience probably never knew how much the 
privilege of preaching the gospel cost him that night. 

" When, at the earnest call of the church in Nobleboro, 
Mr. Dunbar contemplated leaving St. George, his breth- 
ren there were very reluctant to part with him, and only 
yielded to the plain call of Providence. A friend, not 
then a professor of religion, said, ' If Mr. Dunbar is 
going away for a more comfortable support, I will cheer- 
fully give him one half my farm rather than part with 
him.' And those who knew him believed that he would 
do it. 

"After his departure, a strong effort was made to induce 
him to return. One of the brethren wrote : ' I have 
been greatly prospered in my lumbering operations, and 
if you will come back to us, I will build you a house my- 
self.' These incidents show not only what large hearts 
there were in that church, but also how deep a place Mr. 
Dunbar had found in them." 

u That little church, constituted with fourteen mem- 
bers," writes Deacon John Mann, of St. George, " has 
now (1865) grown into five good churches in the re- 
gion." 




CHAPTER VIII. 



Visit to Maine — Preaches at the Bowdoinham Association — Warm Reception there - 
Criticism of the " Fathers." 



JR. DUNBAR remained in New Brunswick about 
two years and a half after his return from Scot- 
land. In September, 1823, he visited the State 
of Maine as a Messenger from the New Bruns- 
wick Baptist Association to the four Associations 
then existing in that State. Rev. David Nutter, 
then of Nova Scotia, now of North Livermore, Me., writes 
of him : "I met with Mr. Dunbar soon after landing at 
Eastport, and we travelled together, visiting the different 
Associations. I found him a most kind, generous, and af- 
fectionate associate, and we then formed a friendship, inti- 
mate and strong, which I trust will last through eternity. 

His name and memory are still most dear to me 

Throughout the journey his labors were highly appre- 
ciated, and he received a most cordial welcome in every 
church where he preached." 

Mrs. Catharine H. Putnam, of New York, an early and 
intimate friend of Mr. Dunbar, and for many years an 
active member of his church, has kindly furnished the fol- 
lowing narrative of her first acquaintance with him, when 
he was on this visit to Maine, where she then resided : 

" I first met Mr. Dunbar in the year 1823, when he came 
as messenger from the N. B. B. Association. A meeting 
was appointed (in Brunswick), the evening previous to 

(67) 



68 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

the Association, at which were gathered all the most distin- 
guished ministers of the denomination in the State. Some 
of us were prompt in making choice among them of a 
preacher for the evening whom we most desired to hear ; 
but, to our great disappointment, a quite young man, — 
he was then thirty-two years of age, — a stranger to us all, 
was ushered into the desk. His text was 1st John ii. 
10 : ' And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the 
Father, Jesus Christ, the righteous.' I recollect none 
of the special points of his sermon, but he had proceeded 
only a few minutes before our attention was deeply ab- 
sorbed, and all regret at the selection of the speaker was 
dispelled. His discourse was throughout a rich feast of 
the best things of gospel experience. Every Christian 
present was comforted and delighted, — all wondering how 
so young a man could know so much of the precious things 
he had spread before us. This was Mr. Dunbar. 

" There appeared to be but one mind among his audience, 
and several warmly commendatory addresses followed the 
sermon. It was a season of general rejoicing ; and, so 
fickle is poor human nature, many among us were now 
as firmly set against hearing anybody else. 

u The next day the subject of discussion in every circle 
was the evening's entertainment ; and when inquiry was 
made who was to be the preacher for the next evening, and 
we were told of another minister who had been appointed, 
we all joined in an earnest protest, insisting that we could 
hear him any time, and Mr. Dunbar must give us another 
sermon just like the last. A gentleman, to whom this was 
said, promised to use his influence to have us gratified. 

"At the hour of meeting we were at the vestry, secretly 
hoping but hardly expecting that our wishes would be 
regarded. It was with surprise as well as delight that 



PREACHES AT THE ASSOCIATION. 69 

we saw the same youthful stranger taking the desk. I do 
not remember his text, but the aim and design of the 
whole discourse was to condemn the preaching of the doc- 
trines of grace ! The speaker said we had nothing to do 
with the decrees of God, and that they made no part of 
the gospel which was to be proclaimed to sinners ; that to 
talk of the doctrines of election, predestination, effectual 
calling, &c, discouraged sinners from trying to be Chris- 
tians ; and that such preaching was never blessed to their 
conversion, but rather hardened them in unbelief! 

" When he closed his sermon there was a dead silence 
for a few moments. The venerable array of gray-headed 
veterans that filled the pulpit on both sides of the preacher 
hung their heads in blank dismay, till Mr. Nutter, the 
associate delegate with Mr. Dunbar, arose and addressed 
the audience. He said he had listened to hts dear 
brother's sermon with deep regret ; he was quite sure 
that if he understood those doctrines which he had so 
decidedly, and, as he fully believed, so honestly spoken 
against, he would rejoice and glory in them as the very 
bone and sinew of the gospel, every part of which was the 
power of God unto salvation. 

" They had heard his dear brother assert that the doc- 
trines referred to were never blessed to the conversion of 
sinners, and they must allow him to bear testimony to 
facts which stood in direct opposition to this assertion. 
His own church in Nova Scotia had been recently visited 
by a gracious and powerful outpouring of the Holy Spirit. 
It had commenced nnder a sermon upon election, and dur- 
ing many months the general tenor of the preaching was, 
without concert or design, of a strong doctrinal char- 
acter. 

"At this point he appealed for confirmation to an aged 



70 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

minister, who, it seems, was from the same neighborhood, 
savins that the numerous converts at that time added to 
his church were the fruit of that particular part of divine 
truth. 

" The events of this evening were deeply humbling to 
us, as the audience was made up largely of our Methodist 
and Free- Will Baptist friends, who were not a little sur- 
prised to see the choice weapons of our warfare so turned 
against ourselves. 

" It was some time after this that Mr. Dunbar returned 
to the United States, and labored with the Second Church, 
in Nobleboro', Maine, now called the Damariscotta church. 
His friends in Brunswick continued to retain a special re- 
gard for him as a man, a Christian, and a preacher, not- 
withstanding our different views of doctrine. We eager- 
ly availed ourselves of every method of intercourse with 
him, not only by letter, but frequently going a distance of 
twenty or thirty miles to hear him preach. This may 
seem strange to some, as the church in Brunswick was 
considered rigidly tenacious of the doctrines of orace. 

" On a visit to Brunswick, Mr. Dunbar spent an even- 
ing at my house, and as he regarded me as maintaining 
what he considered erroneous views of doctrine, he took 
the opportunity to exhort and entreat me to consider my 
ways and be \v r ise, lest I should make shipwreck of faith 
and a good conscience. 

" He said he regarded my views of doctrine to be danger- 
ous in the extreme, and feared they would lead me into a 
dead, careless, and barren course of life ; that I needed the 
stimulus of a diligent attention to duty, — a conviction that 
all my comfort and usefulness depended on the faithful- 
ness with which I carried out my obligations as a Chris- 
tian. 



ANECDOTE. 71 

• 6 This earnest appeal was continued for many hours. 
Sometimes I would attempt to turn the current of his 
thoughts by begging him to tell me where he discovered 
laxity in my practice. All the answer to this was, that 
he knew of nothing on that ground, but it was the inevi- 
table consequence of my belief, to produce such an effect. 

" A year or two after, he was called to labor in Ports- 
mouth, N. H., in the midst of a strong body of Christians 
(so called) and of Freewill Baptists. From the great suc- 
cess which everywhere attended Mr. Dunbar, the few 
Calvinistic Baptists of the place were sanguine in the hope 
that he would be able to strengthen their cause. Here 
was a new service for the young minister, whose warm 
heart had little room for anything but love to Christ and 
his people, and free grace to rebellious sinners. He now 
saw that he must be able to defend the Baptist ground 
of faith and practice, and to his surprise found himself un- 
able to do so. Called to meet the arguments of those who 
threatened to carry captive the feeble band he w r as bound 
to defend, he found it necessary to appeal to the word of 
God for weapons that were more effective than any he 
had at command. Hence began a special study of the 
Scriptures, which resulted in Mr. Dunbar's becoming thor- 
oughly established in all the fundamental doctrines of 
grace. 

" A few years later, while he was pastor of a church 
in Chester, N. H., and I was a resident of New York, 
he visited me at my home, and hardly had we inter- 
changed inquiries respecting the health of our two families, 

when he said to me, ' Sister P -, do you remember 

that night when I preached so long to you ? ' ' I do,' said 
I. 6 Well,' said he, ' my own eyes have been opened, and 
I now understand what you were then contending for.' ' 




CHAPTER IX. 

Providential Detention in Nobleboro' — Strong Faith in God — A Dead Church — A great 
Awakening — Resigns his Charge in St. George, and accepts a Call from the Second 
Nobleboro' Church — Arduous Labors there — Results. 

>HILE on his visit as messenger to the Maine 
Baptist Associations, Mr. Dunbar stopped one 
night for rest and refreshment at a country tav- 
ern. Here lie noticed a young man, who, after 
looking intently on him, approached and asked if 
he were not a minister of the gospel. On being 
answered in the affirmative, and learning also that Mr. 
Dunbar was a Baptist, he stated that lie was a student 
from Waterville College, and had been preaching dur- 
ing the vacation in Nobleboro', where the Baptist cause 
was in a very low state, and that his heart was greatly 
moved for the people. In the picture which he drew 
of the deadness of the little church of about twenty 
members, and the ruin into which they had suffered even 
their sanctuary to fall, there was little to arouse in 
their behalf the zeal of one impatient to return to his 
family and his own flock ; but still the student, Mr. 
Dodge, plead for " only one Sabbath," and at length pre- 
vailed. With minute directions as to each road and turn 
till he should reach the place, he was told to inquire for 
Dea. Hopkins, who, with his family, were among the few 
that were mourning over the desolation of Zion. 

It was late at night, when, cold and hungry, Mr. Dun- 
bar reached the farm-house of the good deacon. He 

(72) 



PROVIDENTIAL DETENTION. 7-°> 

knocked and aroused the family, who, when they heard 
a minister had come, were not long in leaving their pi; 
lows to greet and refresh him. Hearty as was their wel- 
come to the man of God, it would have been increased 
tenfold could they have seen the breaking cloud and the 
rising beam above him. 

It was not loner before a bright fire blazed on the broad, 
old-fashioned hearth, and then the family heard what cause 
had brought their guest. At this seemingly direct provi- 
dence, their hearts were greatly cheered. While waiting 
for the kettle to boil, the good old deacon said to his 
daughters, " In the meantime you may sing a hymn for the 
elder ; " and they did so. We know nothing of the style 
of the singing ; in all probability it was not artistic ; but 
we do know that the air and the words, both new to Mr. 
Dunbar, struck a deep chord in his heart. 

" Thou, in whose presence my soul takes delight," 

was the hymn they chose, probably because it met their 
own case. When they came to the words, 

" Oh, why should I wander an alien from thee, 
And cry in the desert for bread ? 
My foes will rejoice when my sorrow they see, 
And smile at the tears I have shed \" — 

the desolation of the little church he had never seen 
came over his mind, and he felt a strong desire that her 
reproach might be wiped away. A great part of the 
night was spent in singing, conversation, and prayer. 
When Mr. Dunbar retired he soon fell asleep from weari- 
ness. But ere long he awoke with the praises of God on 
his tongue, and his heart overflowing with love to dying 
souls. His first impression, on wa-king, was that some one 



74 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

had entered his chamber with a light, and it was not until 

he had aroused himself and looked around, that he was 

convinced the room was dark. He almost involuntarily 

exclaimed, 

" How can I sleep while angels sing, 
And all the hosts on high 
Cry, glory to the new-born King, — 

The lamb that once did die ; 
While guardian angels fill the room, 

And, hovering round my bed, 
Clap their glad wings in praise of Him 
Who is their glorious Head ! " 

He was overpowered with the view he then had of the 
great value of the immortal soul, and amazed that he, a 
sinner saved by grace, could lie down and sleep, while be- 
ings who had never sinned were tuning their harps, day 
and night, to the wonders of redemption. He thought of 
the days when his own eyes were first opened to the realities 
of the world to come, and of the anguish he endured on 
account of his sin against a just and holy God ; and also 
of the hour of his deliverance, and the joys of forgiveness. 
And, as he lay sleepless, the remainder of the night, he 
had such views of the compassion of Jesus for dying man, 
and his readiness to answer the prayers of his own chosen 
ones on their behalf, and such strong faith in the promises 
of God, that he felt an assurance in his heart that God was 
to give him souls for his hire among these strangers. 

A person of weak faith, inclined to " judge the Lord 
by feeble sense," would have suffered a fearful fall from 
such a spiritual height on entering the meeting-house, the 
following morning. It was almost empty. Satan might 
have tempted one less familiar with his devices, to look 
upon the assurances of the past night as the delusions of a 
half-formed dream. But neither the neglected sanctuary 



GREAT AWAKENING. 75 

nor the small audience had power to shake Mr. Dunbar's 
confidence in what he had taken as the promise of God. 
He preached in the morning from Mark v. 5-17, with 
great earnestness. During the intermission, it was noised 
about that a Scotchman, with a broad accent, was to preach 
in the afternoon, and a much larger number were present. 
He spoke again in the evening to a good congregation, and 
there were then tokens of the Spirit's presence. At the 
close of the meeting, some, who had lived hitherto regard- 
less of religion, confessed that they were sinners, and asked 
to be pointed to Christ. The church began to awaken. 
They saw how the Saviour had been wounded through 
their inconsistencies. They confessed their sins, and 
asked pardon of each other and of God. They plead with 
Mr. Dunbar to remain with them a few days, to visit and 
preach. He did so, and received cheering tokens that his 
labor was not in vain. A work of grace then commenced 
which has rarely seen its equal. In the midst of this, he 
was obliged to return to his home and family, to make ar- 
rangements for accepting the call of this church. Three 
persons w^ere baptized in his absence, probably by a Mr. 
Everett, who supplied the church in the meantime. Mr. 
Dunbar returned to Nobleboro', December 2, 1823, and 
between that time and July, 1825, eighty-eight were 
added to the church by baptism. A great many afterward 
dated their convictions back to this time. This work was 
one of great power, people flocking from all quarters to 
hear the preaching and to witness the manifestations of the 
Spirit. Business was in a great measure suspended, and 
household cares, as far as possible, laid aside, that the time 
might be given to the work of the Lord. 

Mr. Dunbar made his home at the houses of Col. John 
Glidden and Mr. Nathaniel Clapp, during the winter ; 



76 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

the crowds who came to converse with him affording these 
friends ample field for the largest hospitality. In those 
days it was no easy matter to warm a large house at short 
notice. It being necessary to do this so often, Col. Glidden 
purchased a quantity of bark for the purpose, and not 
seldom did its glow brighten every hearth of that hospi- 
table mansion, while Mr. Dunbar would pass from room to 
room, speaking and praying with the groups gathered 
round the different fires. Mrs. Glidden, who still lives, 
well remembers those blessed days, and says that when 
nature could endure no longer, Mr. Dunbar sank exhausted 
and suffering from sore throat and hoarseness. He 
was ordered to his chamber for rest and quiet ; but this last 
command was more than she, with all her kind care, could 
enforce. When he heard voices below, he would say, 
" Just let this one come up," until his room would be filled, 
while he, sitting up in bed, would preach as earnestly as 
if in his pulpit 

So evidently was the Spirit of God with him, that 
neighboring ministers used to beg him to visit their 
churches, which he sometimes did, until the people of 
Nobleboro' began to be troubled when they saw him 
riding on horseback, late in the week, lest he might 
be leaving them over the Sabbath. They felt that, in 
such circumstances, no one could fill his place. 



CHAPTER X. 



Removes his Family to Nobleboro' — A Minister's Wife in the Almshouse — The Horse 
Sermon — Goes to South Berwick, on Exchange — A great Revival — Letter to Fred- 
erickton — Resigns his Charge in Nobleboro' — Is recalled — Letters pressing his 
Return. 



m the following spring Mr. Dunbar removed his 
family from one kind home to another, it being 
very evident that the Lord had appointed his labor 
in Nobleboro.' Soon after his settlement here, he 
attended an Association at some distance, where the 
delegates were most hospitably entertained by the 
thrifty farmers of the region. At the close of the session 
a resolution of thanks was passed for the generous enter- 
tainment, &c, when a good brother of the church rose 
and said : " It may not be known to the brethren that the 
widow of our faithful old pastor, who labored with us so 
long, is still living. She is now an inmate of the poor- 
house, and I thought that if the friends would take up a 
little collection to supply her with such comforts as the 
town does not provide, it would gratify her very much, 
especially to know that she was not forgotten by you." 
There was a moment's pause, when Mr. Dunbar's voice 
was heard, exclaiming, in a tone of great surprise, " Surely, 
dear brethren, my ears deceive me ! Did the good brother 
say 6 that the widow of the man who built up this church, 
who toiled for their good, who prayed at their sick beds 
and at their funerals, under whose ministry they were con- 
verted, and by whose hands they were baptized — did he 

7 * (77) 



78 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

say that, amid all this plenty and prosperity, this man's 
widow had been sent, to wear out her few remaining days 
in the almshouse ? " 

There was a deep silence, when he repealed the 
question, " Did I understand the brother ?" The deacon 
then rose, with some embarrassment, and said, that as she 
had no friends, and the church were not able to support 
her, she had gone there as a last resort. 

This was too much for Mr. D.'s keen sensibilities, and 
he said, " Well, dear brethren, I'm glad for one that our 
session is over, for I want to go home. I don't want to 
stay in a town where they put ministers' widows' in the 
poor-house. Surely, dear brethren, we ministers have 
anxieties and trials enough with labor and poverty, with- 
out adding the fear that, after all this sacrifice for your 
sake and Christ's, you will, when we are worn out, make 
our wives town-paupers ! Brethren, you all know that 
I am not rich ; but 1 am pastor of a flock that would 
not wink at such a thing as this ; and let me say that I 
shall not leave this town while that minister's widow is an 
inmate of the almshouse ! If no one else takes her out, I 
will do it myself. I will take her home to Damariscotta 
in my own chaise, and I'll find plenty there who will give 
this dear mother in Israel a seat at their fireside for a few 
days till God comes to take her home. Am I right, dea- 
con? " he asked, looking toward his associate from Noble- 
boro'. The good deacon nodded assent, and Mr. Dunbar 
continued, " Well, then, my dear brethren of this church, 

Sister goes with us to-morrow, unless she is at 

once provided with another home." 

It is needless to say that the church saw r the reproach 
which thoughtlessness, rather than parsimony, had 



THE HORSE SERMON. 79 

brought upon them ; and before the delegates left town 
the widow was provided with a comfortable home. 

At another meeting of an Association, there were so 
many delegates that stabling could not be provided for all 
their horses, and many were put into pastures. Unfor- 
tunately, that of good old Father H. got " cast " in the 
field, and died. This was a great loss to the good man, 
who was very dependent on his horse for visiting and 
preaching in the scattered districts of his rural charge. 
Mr. Dunbar was announced as the preacher for the even- 
ing ; and it was stated, that, at the close of that meeting, 
a collection would be taken up to aid Elder H. in replac- 
ing the horse accidentally killed. With that readiness 
for which Mr. Dunbar was so peculiar, he announced, as 
his text in the evening, " And he set him on his own 
beast." Luke x. 34. Of course, no sketch can be given 
of the sermon at this late day ; but an aged minister of 
Maine, who heard it, says it was very interesting and in- 
structive ; and the result proved that it was powerful in 
accomplishing the end in view. Among other things, the 
preacher showed how dependent the best and wisest men 
often are on the humblest instrumentalities in their labors 
for others. " What," he asked, " could the good Samaritan 
have done for the man who fell among thieves, whom he 
found lying wounded and half dead by the wayside, had 
he been without the faithful dumb servant that bore him 
to the inn ? He would not, indeed, have passed by on 
the other side ; for there was no such selfishness in him. 
He would have poured oil and wine into his wounds; 
but still, he would have been obliged to leave him where 
he found him. And what can the piety and love and 
zeal of our dear brother H. do for the scattered and suf- 
fering ones in his fold, if he cannot reach them ? And 



30 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

surely he cannot do so, in his old age, without a horse." 
Then he portrayed a poor family, in the outskirts of the 
congregation, into which poverty and sickness had come, 
and where death was hourly looked for. They had no 
horse to send for the servant of God to come and pray 
with them ; and perhaps one of the little ones is de- 
spatched on a weary walk to plead for a visit. By and by 
they begin to look from the window and to go often to 
the door, with the restlessness natural in all such cases, to 
see if the minister is not coming. After a little time, a 
child is sent up to the top of a hill to look off into the 
distance for the minister's horse, — everybody knows that 
horse, — but he comes back to disappoint their hopes. 
" Brethren, all such families will henceforth look in vain 
for brother H. to preach in their school-houses, or to pray 
by their death-beds, unless you make up his loss." 

Sufficient money was collected for the purchase of an- 
other u beast." 

In July, 1825, Mr. Dunbar went to South Berwick, on 
an exchange, when a religious interest was awakened 
which prevented his immediate return home. He could 
not leave the work thus thrown on his hands ; so an 
arrangement was made with the minister of South Ber- 
wick for continuing the exchange. 

The church in this town was now very feeble, and 
their place of worship small. But, humble as it was, it 
became the honored birthplace of many souls, " the 
house of God and the gate of heaven." During the 
thirteen weeks of this first visit, twenty-nine were 
baptized. Having returned to his charge in Nobleboro' to 
spend two or three Sabbaths, he went back, and the Lord 
still blessed his labors. But we have been unable to as- 



LETTER TO FREDERICKTON. 81 

certain the whole number of conversions during this 
visit. 

In a letter to an esteemed friend in Frederickton, N. B., 
Mr. Jarvis Ring, who, in behalf of his brethren, had ear- 
nestly solicited him to become their pastor, Mr. Dunbar 
writes, under date of South Berwick, Oct. 25th, 1825 : 
" After I read your last letter, and found you were still 
destitute of the means of grace, I felt, more than ever, 
anxious to run to your relief; and when I found that my 
return to this place again was necessary, I begged of the 
brethren at Nobleboro' to relieve me from my obligations 
to them ; to which they consented, after I directed them 
to a minister, who, I believed, would answer in my place. 
My object in taking this step was that I might be at lib- 
erty, after the revival should cease here, to go and spend 
some time with you, if you should still be destitute. I 
am now, therefore, free from all engagements with any 
people, except that my conscience and a sense of duty 
bind me to stay here till the Lord has finished his present 
work." But this was not in God's plan, and he never 
went to Frederickton. 

The church at N. were at first exceedingly reluctant to 
comply with Mr. Dunbar's request, indicated in the above 
letter, and were only brought to consent to it by a tender 
regard for his conscientious wishes. 

Between him and them a warm affection ever existed, 
as was shown by their recalling him to their pastorate 
at the end of the first year after he left them, and again 
fifteen or tw r enty years later. 

From the many kind and pressing letters which urged 
his return, we select the following, from an old sea-cap- 
tain, as quite fresh and characteristic : 



82 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

" Nobleboro', Feb. 8, 1827. 
" Elder Dunbar, 

" Dear Sir, — With much pleasure I embrace this op- 
portunity to inform you that my family and all our friends 
are ay ell. 

" The year has rolled round, and we have no minister. 
We are in want ; our ship is on the lee-shore ; we want 
a pilot to beat her to windward, among quicksands and 
rolling stones, into the right channel once more ; and we 
think that we wish for no other than the old pilot that 
showed us first the channel. We wish to sail with him 
to the new land that flows with milk and honey. By 
God's permission, dear sir, we want you and we want 
your family in this place. You, by God's permission, 
planted a dear church ; and we want you to come and 
dig about it, and bring it to the harvest. Don't fail to 
come. Come to my house first. 

" Your sincere friend, 

" Francis Tufts." 

Good old Deacon Chamberlain, of the same church, 
was also very anxious for his return ; and we judge his 
righteous soul might have been a little vexed by the dis- 
appointment of his hopes, for he writes : 

" Unless you come back as our pastor, I hope you will 
not come to visit us till we settle one : for, if you do, we 
shall never be able to unite in another." 



CHAPTER XI. 

Removes to Portsmouth, N. EL — Previous Efforts to establish a Baptist Church there — 
Strong Doctrinal Preaching — Opposition from " Christians," and Calvinist Baptist 
Church Formed — Independent Congregational Church embraces Baptist Views — 
Invite him and his People to unite with them — Helpers raised up — Resigns his 
Charge — Removes to Chester, N. H. — A Perilous Adventure — Visits New York — 
Called to the First Brooklyn and the North Beriah (Vandam Street, New York) 
Churches. 



aN" January, 1826, Mr. Dunbar removed his family from 
Nobleboro' to Portsmouth, N. H., at what he 
deemed the call of Providence, leaving a people 
from whom neither time nor distance ever weaned 
him, and going forth to break new ground, with few 
helpers, where his income would be small and his ex- 
penses large, and where the obstacles to success seemed 
very great. Mr. L. W. Brewster, of Portsmouth, has 
kindly furnished the following interesting sketch : — 

" The church to which Mr. Dunbar came, was es- 
tablished by Elias Smith, in 1802, and was styled, ' The 
First Baptist Church in Portsmouth.' Mr. Smith's 
change of views to those which are now peculiar to the 
6 Christian ' denomination, found many followers here, 
and his sentiments were adopted by his church as a body. 
In 1825, however, there being considerable diversity of 
belief on doctrinal points, and much trouble in obtaining 
suitable ministers, the society was in a state bordering on 
dissolution. 

" At this time a conference was held between the stand- 
ing committee of the society and brethren Samuel Cleaves 

(83) 



84 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

and E. C. Crane, representatives of the Calvinistic 
Baptists in Portsmouth, which resulted in a union of 
effort to maintain the existence of the church, by ap- 
plying to the Massachusetts Baptist Missionary Society 
for patronage. This being done, Rev. Lucius Bolles, D. D., 
of Salem, Mass., visited the church as a delegate from 
that society, to inspect the field and learn the exact state 
of affairs. The result of his visit and investigation was the 
sending to Portsmouth of Rev. Mr. Merriam, a Calvinistic 
Baptist, who, for some months, supplied the pulpit. Upon 
beginning his labors, Mr. M., for a few Sabbaths, overlooked 
many of the irregularities which had been licensed under 
the previous dispensation. But he very soon began to 
break up the fallow ground and to institute a reform. It 
had been customary to attend church or not as feelings or 
inclination prompted ; to come early or late as might 
happen ; and to go out at any period of the services with 
the utmost freedom. These faults were severely rebuked, 
and soon the decencies of church-going etiquette began to 
be generally observed, and a regular and respectful con- 
gregation listened to the services throughout. 

64 After the close of his labors, Mr. Dunbar came, and the 
impress of his preaching and example here is ineffaceable. 
The years that have crowded between us and him have 
only exalted him to our view as a God-sent pioneer, who 
came in the spirit of Elijah. Holding firmly the tenets 
of Calvinism, and uttering them without restraint, he 
turned his double-edged sword of election and the Trinity 
with a strong and fearless hand against the opposing doc- 
trines. It is not surprising that, in such a congregation as 
his, his preaching should be obnoxious to quite a number. 
One Sabbath forenoon he preached from the text, Acts 
xxiv.14 : c But this I confess unto thee that, after the way 



OPPOSITION. 85 

which they call heresy, so worship I the God of my 
fathers,' &c. At the close of the service, one of the lead- 
ing men of the church met him in the aisle with the 
abrupt salutation, ' If I believed what you have preached, 
I should never read the Bible, nor attend meeting.' We 
may judge that the discourse touched upon his favorite 
doctrine of election ; and one of his hearers has said re- 
specting it, that she never, in all her long life of eighty- 
nine years, heard this doctrine so clearly and beautifully 
expounded. 

u But w^hile he was thus uncompromising in performing 
what he conceived to be his duty as a Christian teacher, 
his sensitive nature was easily touched. The remark 
made upon his sermon touched him to the quick, and that 
day, at noon, not a morsel passed his lips. 

" He found easy access to the hearts of the people. ' He 
was a godly man,' they say of him here, and those who 
were most intimate with him love and cherish his memory 
the most. His pure, upright, earnest, God-trusting life 
stands as a model of Christian and ministerial excellence. 

" The church-edifice in which he preached has since been 
remodelled, and is now called ' The Temple,' on Chestnut 
street. He continued to conduct the services here until 
about the first of June, 1826. At that time, Elder Moses 
How, of the ' Christian ' persuasion, being in town, desired 
to occupy the pulpit of Elder Dunbar. To this Mr. D. 
rather objected, from the fact that he was endeavoring to 
establish a Baptist interest in the place, and that he felt 
that harm would result from allowing any adverse in- 
fluence to emanate from his pulpit. Finally, however, 
consent was given, it being understood, it is said, that con- 
flicting doctrines were for the time to be laid aside. Elder 
How preached accordingly, and, contrary to the expectation 



86 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

of Mr. Dunbar, took ground in pointed opposition to the 
tenets of the latter. At the close of the discourse, Mr. D. 
arose and said, that ' the young man had doubtless done 
the best he could, and he would reply to him ! ' 

" He shortly after preached his farewell discourse to that 
mixed people. The house was crowded. The sermon 
reviewed his ministry there, recalling to the minds of his 
hearers the eagerness with which they had urged his com- 
ing, and the unkind manner in which they had treated 
him. This closed his connection with that church. 

u But he proceeded with his Master's work ; and, on the 
11th of June, under the patronage of the Massachusetts 
Baptist Missionary Society, the Calvinist Baptists assem- 
bled by themselves for public worship, for the first time. 
The place of meeting was the ' Old Assembly House,' 
on Vaughan street. Mr. Dunbar preached, in the fore- 
noon, from the text, Gen. xxviii. 16 : 'And Jacob awaked 
out of his sleep ; and lie said, Surely the Lord is in this 
place, and I knew it not.' In the afternoon, he took the 
seventeenth verse : c This is none other but the house of 
God, and this is the gate of heaven.' 

" A meeting was soon appointed to take measures for 
the formation of a Calvinistic Baptist Church. There were 
present eight persons, — just the number, as Mr. D. 
pleasantly remarked, that entered into the ark, — namely, 
Duncan Dunbar, Sampson Sheafe, Allen Porter, Samuel 
Cleaves, Elisha C. Crane, Susan Parke, Mary Brewster, 
and Christina Dunbar. 

" A call, signed by these persons, was issued for a Coun- 
cil, with reference to their constitution into a Baptist 
Church. Such a council assembled August 10, 1826, at 
the house of Mr. Dunbar ; and public services were subse- 
quently held in the Assembly House. The council repre- 



EMPHATIC LANGUAGE. 87 

sented the Baptist Churches of Exeter, N. II., Portland 
and South Berwick, Maine, by their pastors and three other 
delegates. The sermon was preached by the Rev. Thomas 
B. Ripley, of Portland. The Lord's Supper was celebrated, 
for the first time, September 3d. 

" The hall in which the Society worshipped would ac- 
commodate about, two hundred persons. It was generally 
filled. 

" During the summer, Mr. Dunbar was accustomed to 
have a meeting at six o'clock, a. m., in which he occupied 
considerable time with remarks, two preaching services 
during the day, and a meeting in the evening ; all which 
would have been no easy task for one whose heart was not 
in his work. 

" It was his custom to spend from fifteen to thirty min- 
utes, forenoon and afternoon, in reading and expounding 
the Scriptures. This was followed by a sermon, which 
would now be considered long ; the entire service was two 
or two and a half hours. Mr. Dunbar also preached once 
during the week. 

" In one of his sermons he made use of the following em- 
phatic language to express his belief in the deity of Christ : 
' If Jesus Christ was not the very Eternal God, he was the 
greatest impostor that ever lived on earth, and the Jews 
did perfectly right in killing him ! ' [Lev. xxiv. 16.] 

" Mr. Dunbar's preaching attracted hearers from other 
denominations. This was very soon seriously felt by the 
Independent Congregational Society worshipping in Pitts 
Street. Finding the doctrines of the Baptists were be- 
coming more acceptable to his hearers, the pastor of this 
church was led to change his views to accord to those 
held by Mr. Dunbar. But it appears that this was a 
step too far, as this was not the first change of the kind 



88 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

he had made. He lost the entire confidence of his society, 
and ere long, by the advice of his friends, he removed to 
another field. 

" Left thus without a pastor, it was not long before an 
invitation was extended to the Baptists to form a union of 
the two societies, Mr. Dunbar to preach in the Pitts Street 
Chapel. The invitation was accepted, and about the be- 
ginning of the new year the meetings at the ' Assembly 
House ' were given up. 

" Mr. Dunbar, however, preached but a few Sabbaths in 
the new place, before he accepted a call from Chester, 
N. H., about the last of January, 1827. 

" His labors in Portsmouth were more directly blessed to 
the gathering of a church and its confirmation in the doc- 
trines of grace, than in the conversion of sinners. He 
was the instrument, in God's hand, of laying the founda- 
tion deep and strong, on which others have since built up 
a prosperous body, now known as the ' Middle Street Bap- 
tist Church.' 

u Yet he never was neglectful of his duty to the uncon- 
verted. There was always manifest a deep and tender 
earnestness in his pleadings with those whose minds were 
seriously inclined. After lingering a long while at the 
close of an evening-meeting, in conversation with a young 
lady, an inquirer, he left her with the remark, 4 O my 

dear , if there were but one soul in the whole world 

needing salvation, and that soul were here, I should be 
nmply repaid for all my labor and trouble in coming from 
Scotland, to save that one.' 

" During Mr. Dunbar's ministry at the Assembly House, 
he baptized four persons. In February, however, the 
month succeeding his removal, thirteen more were added, 
— ' one sowing, and another reaping.' " 



HELPERS RAISED UP. 89 

To show how easy it is for the Lord to raise up helpers 
for his servants, we cannot omit mentioning a friendship 
formed at this time, which had much to do with the hap- 
piness and comfort of Mr. Dunbar's family in Portsmouth. 

While preaching in the Assembly House, he noticed a 
lady whose dress and manners marked her as a stranger 
among his hearers. None there knew her ; but still she 
came regularly on Sabbath mornings, and was a most atten- 
tive listener. By and by she began to drop in at the 
evening service, and then she was accompanied by a black 
man, as a protector. Asking who in town kept such a 
man-servant, Mr. Dunbar learned that his new hearer was 
the wife of Captain Mcintosh, the newly-appointed British 
Consul, brother of the Laird of Raigmore, himself owning 
an estate in Inverness, about thirty miles from Mr. Dun- 
bar's native place. 

Mrs. Mcintosh went to the Assembly House at first to 
gratify her ear with the peculiar accent of her native land, 
and there felt the power of the gospel she heard so plainly 
and faithfully preached. She sought the acquaintance 
and friendship of Mr. and Mrs. Dunbar ; and henceforth 
he could have spoken of her as one of " those women who 
ministered unto me in the gospel." As a lady of rank and 
fortune, she might, under the circumstances, have acted the 
part of a patroness toward a feeble church and its minister ; 
but it was not in her gentle nature to do so. The inter- 
course between the two families was one founded on strong 
mutual affection. One of Mr. Dunbar's daughters was 
named after Mrs. Mcintosh, at her request. This inti- 
macy was kept up by visiting and correspondence as long 
as they remained in America ; and after their return home, 
Mr. Dunbar, when in his native land, was received as 
their guest in Inverness with true brotherly warmth and 

8* 



90 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

Scottish hospitality. After this visit the noble captain 
wrote to him when at E'gin, urging him to return to 
them again before leaving the country, and begoino; him 
to " try to command a leisure half hour, to commit to 
paper ' The Bower of Prayer ' for Mrs. Mcintosh," which, 
we presume, he had sung to her in her home. But they 
never met again on earth. The captain and his amiable 
wife preceded him to the silent land. 

Having labored with this church most earnestly and 
faithfully, he felt it his duty, after a brief pastorate, to 
resign. A unanimous call from Chester had been brought 
to him by three of the brethren, who came to urge his 
acceptance of it. Thither he removed, and was at once 
at work in a hard field, where the cause was weak, and 
the opposing influences strong. Of his labors here we 
have little to mention, except the usual record of fidelity 
and success. At one time we find an account of twenty- 
three baptisms within a period of about three months. 

While residing in Chester, Mr. Dunbar made an ex- 
change with the minister in Concord, N. H. lie went in 
a sleigh, taking with him his eldest daughter, then a little 
girl. Late on Saturday afternoon they reached the river 
at the point where they expected to cross it, but were 
much perplexed by learning that the ice was so broken up 
that no horse had been driven over for two or three days. 
A man who lived near the river, and was familiar with the 
crossing, advised Mr. Dunbar not to attempt it. But 
there was no other way to get over, and he went down 
and examined it for himself. The ice was parted from the 
shore, and cracked into huge cakes. But with the old 
boyish spirit of daring, he resolved " to try it." To quiet 
the fears of his daughter, lie said, as she well remembers, 
" I believe, my dear, that it is God's will that I should 



PERILOUS ADVENTURE. 91 

preach in Concord to-morrow, and this is the only way 
I can get there ; so we will put our trust in him, and I'm 
very sure he will keep us in safety. An old Indian in 
New Brunswick once told me how to cross rivers when 
the ice was weak. I know about how much you and I 
and the pony and sleigh weigh, and I have measured the 
distance with my eye; so we will go." 

He then urged the pony on with whip and voice ; he 
darted over, the cakes of ice parting as his feet rose from 
them, and the water gushing up behind them at every 
step. The next morning the river was nearly clear of ice, 
and the current flowing freely on. The good man who 
had warned Mr. Dunbar of the danger, no doubt thought' 
him a madman to run such a risk ; but he used his 
own judgment, decided on his duty, cast himself on God, 
and accomplished his end. And many times in after life, 
when there was danger as well as duty ahead, did he, in 
church discipline or financial matters, take the reins in his 
own hand, measure the difficulties and the probabilities of 
success, and then whip triumphantly over ! He who 
seemed rash on one side the river, was often hailed as a 
hero on the other. 

The Second Church in Brunswick, Me., in whose 
prosperity he felt a deep interest, was now struggling to 
build a house of worship. A former member, who was at 
this time residing in New York, wrote them that if they 
could persuade Mr. Dunbar to visit that city in their be- 
half, he could without doubt procure aid for them. One 
of their number made a winter's journey from Brunswick 
to Chester to appeal to his sympathy, which was quickly 
moved. Obtaining leave of absence from his people, he 
went to New York, and was successful in his mission. 
But Providence designed something more than this by the 



92 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

visit. So great was the interest awakened by his preach- 
ing and his intercourse with the people, that he received 
calls to the pastorate of the First Brooklyn, and the Van- 
dam Street (New York), churches. 

One evening, being at a public meeting in New York, his 
name was announced as that of a stranger. At the close 
of the services a gentleman came up to him with a look 
of surprise, saying, as he grasped his hand, u Mr. Dunbar, 
when you were wrecked on the shore of Bermuda, I was 
one of the two lads who first volunteered to go out through 
the breakers to you, — William George Miller. The ser- 
mons you preached while detained on the island made an 
impression on my mind which was never effaced. I am 
now pastor of a church in this city, and no house but mine 
shall be your home while you remain here." 

The acquaintance thus renewed grew into an affection- 
ate friendship, which endured till death removed the 
younger first to his heavenly rest. 




CHAPTER XII. 

Takes Charge of the Van dam Street Church — Tribute of Mr. W. Seton — Labors in 
Destitute parts of the City — Formation of the Sixteenth Church — Befriending 
Strangers — Preaching Christ in the Prison — Efforts for Convicts. 

jR. DUNBAR settled with the North Beriah 
Church, in Vandam street, New York, as pastor, 
June 10, 1828. 

The congregation rapidly increased, and, ere 
long, the house of worship became too small for 
them. It was therefore lengthened so as to gain, 
several rows of pews, and was otherwise improved. But 
scarcely was the work accomplished, when, amid tokens of 
great spiritual prosperity, their sanctuary was burned to 
the ground, with very many other buildings, leaving nearly 
a hundred families homeless. Mr. Dunbar toiled all the 
night of the fire, with his brethren, to save what he could 
from the ruins, and to aid other sufferers. At daybreak 
he sought his home, accompanied by many poor creatures 
who had no shelter, and for them he ordered breakfast in 
the kitchen before taking rest or refreshment himself. 

The church was treated with the greatest sympathy and 
kindness in this the time of their need. Within a few hours 
they received offers, in whole or in part, of several places 
of worship, belonging to different denominations. A small 
church edifice, built for a Bethel, in Provost, now Frank- 
lin street, was generously offered them, free of expense, by 
Mr. F. Merriam, who then owned it. This they gratefully 

(93) 



94 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

accepted and occupied, until, by much effort and personal 
sacrifice, and by the proffered aid of churches of their own 
and other denominations, with whose ministers Mr. Dun- 
bar was on terms of friendship, they erected a new and 
better house. They selected another location, — three 
house-lots, forming part of what was then known as 
" Shaw's Garden," on McDougal street, at the head of 
Van dam. There, in their present place of worship, he 
and the church, with two short interruptions, labored to- 
gether, amid frequent tokens of the divine favor, for more 
than thirty years. 

When Mr. Dunbar first went to Vandam Street, he 
found there a large and flourishing Sunday school, under 
the superintendence of Mr. S. W. Seton, and side by side 
with him he labored until called home to his rest. Since 
Mr. Dunbar's death, Mr. Seton writes: 

" I send a few recollections of the precious departed, 
whose memoir you have consented to prepare. I trust it 
will mirror forth his earnest life, so as to revive his past 
counsels and examples with blessings to those who ' heard 
him gladly/ and rejoiced in his refreshing shadow amid 
heavy burdens of soul and body, while enjoying sanctuary 
privileges at his diligent and gentle hand ; and also to im- 
press his faithful lessons upon the heart and conscience of 
those who may have turned thoughtlessly away from the 
voice of ' the living preacher.' I heard his first and his 
last sermon to this people. They w r ere alike full of ear- 
nestness, energy, and spiritual life ; an embodiment of 
that Christian experience so fully breathed in the Psalms 
of David, and so prevailing a feature in Paul's edifying 
epistles. It was enough for me ; — hidden manna, angel's 
food. He used great plainness of speech and great ear- 
nestness of manner ; such apt and beautiful though some- 



TRIBUTE OF S. W. SETON. 95 

times homely illustrations, that uneducated minds, and 
even little children, could understand him. 

" A smile and a cordial shake of the hand was my last 
interview, on leaving the Sunday-school room, the last Sab- 
bath he preached. He told me he was going to visit his 
children J. and M., and invited me to accompany him, — 
full of life, health, and earnestness of purpose. But, alas, 
it proved to us fc the last of earth ' in social intercourse ; 
and now a murmuring sigh comes unadvisedly to our lips ; 
but this is our infirmity. God bless us all, and forgive 
us wherein we come short of the blessed duty, 6 Thy will 
be done.' 

44 Yours with affection more than ever, 

« S. W. S." 

44 I find," says Mr. Seton, in another letter, u the first 
notice of Mr. Dunbar in my Sunday-school Annals, Sab- 
bath morning, October 5, 1828. He preached the Anni- 
versary Sermon of the Sunday school, November 23. His 
first sermon in Vandam Street was from 2 Kings v. 12 : 
6 Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better 
than all the waters of Israel ? ' 

44 The subject was beautifully and experimentally ap- 
plied, with unbounded warmth and vigor, and gave the high- 
est satisfaction to all, opening a broad road to favor among 
the people who were to become the sheep of his pasture. 

44 In 1836, he went to Europe, and returned November 
7th, and was present at the Friday evening prayer-meet- 
ing. He went for his health, and came back with it fully 
established, and with a heart full of ' new wine.' 

" His text, on the Sabbath, was Rom. hi. 23 : ' All have 
sinned.' It had been one of the proof-texts of the Sunday- 
school lesson on the previous Sabbath, and the whole subject 



96 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

had thus been opened before, to the school. This was in- 
cidental ; but the text was no doubt prompted by his pent- 
up spirit, in travail again for the dear saints of his flock. 

" The Sabbath after his return was observed as a 
Thanksgiving occasion for our homes, health, and pros- 
perity during the year, and especially for the safe return 
from the perils of the sea and of feeble health, of our 
precious friend. It was an occasion of the utmost spirit- 
ual rejoicing. The church was crowded to its utmost ca- 
pacity. How solemn, impressive and ardent was the gos- 
pel message, from this mere Bible motto ! This observance 
was by both church and Sunday school. The Sunday- 
school minute says : ' The exercises were both solemn and 
interesting, and we doubt not did good to all hearts, and 
we trust many were sanctified by their use, lifting up their 
hearts for God's unspeakable gift, and for the good word 
of life.' 

" The occasion was enjoyed by not a few, who hallowed 
the celebration with tears of gratitude, in this joyous meet- 
ing in the sanctuary, as they 

' Hailed with thanksgiving a pastor returning, 
Refreshed in his strength, and his lamp brightly burning/ 

for the school and the people. The second Sabbath morn- 
ing after his return, he preached from Phil. iv. 6 : 6 Be care- 
ful for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplica- 
tion, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known 
unto Grod.' 

" This was well fitted for his affectionate heart to his 
people, zealous that, in home and church affairs, they 
should make known their joy by prayer and praise. The 
occasion was one long to be remembered, and is unforgot- 
ten by me in all its features, as also his salutation sermon, 
on the previous Sabbath, ' All have sinned.' " 



LABORS IN NEW YORK. 97 

When Mr. Dunbar went to New York there was a 
great field for evangelical labor in the outskirts of the 
city. There was then but one Baptist church north of 
his own, and the population was rapidly increasing in that 
direction. One of his deacons, John B. Halstead, had re- 
moved to the Eighth Avenue, near Eighteenth street, 
then quite out of town. His heart was moved for the 
people, and he resolved to use his influence in establish- 
ing worship there. He laid the case before his pastor, 
who pledged himself to further any plan he might lay 
out. Mr., afterward Rev., Henry Knapp, who had re- 
cently been converted, and had united with the Van- 
dam Street Church, occupied a large homestead on the 
shore of the Hudson, near " The Old White Fort." 
He now threw open his house for meetings, and once a 
week Mr. Dunbar went there, accompanied by several 
brethren, and preached, to as many as Mr. K.'s hos- 
pitality could accommodate, the good word of life. 

These labors were accepted ; souls were converted, and 
saints encouraged to attempt great things for God. 
Deacon Halstead began to broach the subject of a new 
church. Of course such a movement would involve the 
loss of several beloved members to Vandam Street, not 
itself at the time very strong. To Mr. Dunbar, parting 
with Deacon H. was like losing a right arm for labor, so 
highly did he value the earnest piety, the profound 
wisdom, and the active zeal of this blessed friend and 
church-officer. But he shrunk not from the sacrifice, and 
went with them, heart and soul, into the work. A little 
vestry was built, which soon had to be enlarged, and a 
church was formed, which grew into what is now the 
Sixteenth Baptist Church. From its incipient state, this 
"interest" was cherished by the mother church, which 



98 DUNCAN DUNBAE. 

cheerfully gave of her sons and her treasures to aid 
in planting the standard of the cross in that then new 
region. The holy and unselfish spirit, — so free from all 
ambition of being a leader, — which animated the heart of 
John B. Halstead, made its impress on those who were 
associated with him, as well as on those he left behind in 
the old home. No feelings save those of love, we believe, 
ever existed between these two churches. 

Mr. Dunbar's settlement in New York was indeed an 
entrance into a great field of usefulness, for which both 
nature and grace had eminently fitted him. Well do his 
elder children remember the zeal with which he took 
up the first cases of suffering that presented themselves. 
At the head of the list stood a decent old man, whom he 
found suffering from want of work. Near Mr. Dunbar's 
house, then in Charlton street, close to the old Rich- 
mond Hill Theatre, — in days long gone the country- 
seat of Aaron Burr, — was an alley-way, over which 
was a rough chamber, with plank floor, reached by a 
ladder. Here he set up the old stranger at house-keeping, 
after presenting him with a " buck " and saw, with which 
to earn his bread. The bare brick walls, the cot bed, the 
table, chair and stove, composed a palace for the grateful 
creature, and for months he toiled every hour of daylight, 
manifesting a sobriety and industry which proved him no 
subject for the almshouse, from which his benefactor had 
kept him. During the winter, the old man was sick for a 
few days, and then it became the mission of Mr. Dunbar's 
little children to mount the ladder, and carry broth, gruel, 
and whatever he might need to what their father playfully 
called, " Hobby's Roost." The queer little figure, — clad 
in light blue cotton, until he earned better garments, — 
surmounted with a very small, red w T ig, is one of the 



BEFRIENDING STRANGERS. 99 

grotesque pictures imprinted on their memories. They 
will never forget 44 Jemmy the wood-sawyer." 

One moxriing,as Mr. Dunbar entered a barber's shop, a 
young man of superior address, whom he had seen 
there several times and had taken for a customer, stepped 
up to him with some diffidence, and offered to shave 
him. 

44 But are you a barber ? " asked Mr. Dunbar in sur- 
prise. 

44 No, sir, but I am learning to be one," he replied, 
dropping his eyes, while the color mounted to his brow. 

44 But why is this, my young friend ?" asked Mr. Dun- 
bar. 

44 Sir," replied the stranger, in tremulous tones, 44 1 can- 
not dig, and to beg I am ashamed. I came from a good 
home, and am the son of a respectable family. I have 
spent my remittances, and, after vain endeavors to obtain 
a position in a mercantile house, have become utterly dis- 
couraged. Day after day I have come here, and this 
good barber has pitied and tried to help me. I could no 
longer pay my board where I was, and he has allowed me 
to sleep here on the lounge, and has sent me food. I can- 
not accept the bounty of a poor man, while myself strong 
and able to work ; so when he needed help here, I offered 
to learn his trade, and if you will allow me, I will shave 
you, sir." 

44 No, my young friend, I will allow you to do no 
such thing ! Come home with me, and I will see what can 
be done for you." 

After seeing his credentials and inquiring into his char- 
acter where he had been boarding, Mr. Dunbar took the 
young man into his own family. Here he remained many 
weeks, it being a time of great depression in business. 



100 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

Here he conducted himself like a gentleman, and mani- 
fested much gratitude. He at length found employment, 
and then refunded, as far as was in his power, the money 
loaned him. He expressed the firm belief that Mr. Dun- 
bar's kindness had saved him from the ruin which so often 
overtakes unemployed youth in great cities. 

Sectarianism was never mingled with Mr. Dunbar's 
charities ; the sufferer was a brother man. That was all 
he cared to know. Catholic, Jew, and Gentile, alike 
shared his pity. The last-named young man was a stanch, 
consistent Episcopalian, and read his prayers, and attended 
his own services, while eating the bread of his benefactor. 
But Mr. Dunbar did not wish to buy men's consciences 
cheap in their day of adversity ; he asked no man to sell 
his birthright for a mess of pottage. 

The second year of his residence in New York, a young 
man, named Richard Johnson, was sentenced to be hung 
for the murder of a Mrs. Newman, who had cruelly 
deceived and injured him. He had heard of Mr. Dun- 
bar, and requested that he might be his spiritual ad- 
viser. Mr. Dunbar became deeply interested, as did 
many other gentlemen, in the case, the condemned having 
hitherto borne a fair character for honesty and industry, 
and having committed the crime in a frenzy, after great 
provocation. Every effort was made to save him, but in 
vain ; the majesty of law triumphed over all the appeals 
of pity, and the minister had only to labor and pray that 
his poor young charge might be prepared to meet a mighti- 
er and yet more merciful Judge than man. Those who 
knew the kindness of his heart, w T ill realize how keenly 
Mr. Dunbar sympathized with the agony of the condemned, 
and how earnestly he prayed and toiled for his salvation 
during those months that intervened between the sentence 



LABORS WITH THE CONDEMNED. 101 

and its fulfilment. Even down to the last hour, he was with 
him, spending the whole night preceding the execution in 
prayer and conversation in the cell, and rejoicing, when the 
sad scene was over, in the belief that one who was deemed 
by man unfit to live, Avas, by faith in the pardoning blood 
of Christ, made meet for heaven. A long paper, contain- 
ing the sad history of Johnson's fall from virtue, and his 
sudden descent to ruin, with other writings of interest 
from his hand, were found among Mr. Dunbar's papers 
after his own death. 

So deeply was the case of this friendless young man felt, 
and so earnest were the prayers for him at the family altar, 
that the children entered most painfully into it. Never will 
they forget the awful anxieties of that, his last night on earth. 
The tender heart of their mother, alive with pity for every 
living thing, was so deeply moved that she never thought 
of sleeping. She gathered her children all in her own 
room, and while the little ones slept, she, with those old 
enough to enter into her feelings, watched the hours as 
they dragged heavily on to the fatal stroke of " four." 
Every throb of that pure heart bore a prayer to heaven for 
the parting soul. Like the dying thief, he left earth in the 
full hope of being that day with Christ in Paradise. 

Among the letters preserved by Mr. Dunbar, is one in 
which the full gratitude of a father's heart is poured out, 
and blessings called down on him, for his success in obtain- 
ing pardons for two young sons, who, through the tempta- 
tion of evil companions, had been led into their first 
crime, and been sentenced to the State Prison. His chil- 
dren have no remembrance of the case, and know of this 
and hundreds of other acts of mercy only from the writ- 
ten acknowledgments of the recipients, or the letters of 
friends at the time. 



102 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

There was a respectable widow living not far from his 
church, an Episcopalian, and an utter stranger to him. 
She had two sons, one in the West Indies and one with 
her, both bearing good characters, and having employment 
in respectable mercantile houses. They were affectionate 
and dutiful toward her, supplying all her wants. The 
younger one was invited by his fellow-clerks to join with 
them in sending flour to one of the islands, where there 
was at the time a great scarcity. He was looking every 
hour for the ship which was to bring the semi-annual in- 
stalment from his brother for his mother's use. With her 
consent he agreed to join his companions in the speculation, 
having not a doubt that the expected money would soon 
arrive. Day after day passed, and the morning came when 
the payment for the flour was due ; but still there was no 
sign of the vessel off Sandy Hook. He felt ashamed to 
withdraw, at so late a time, from his agreement, and was 
not a little perplexed; when the book-keeper sent him off 
to the bank to deposit a thousand dollars. 

He placed eight hundred and ninety dollars in the 
bank, and, with the balance of one hundred and ten, ful- 
filled his part of the contract at once. A young clerk, 
belonging to another Arm, was, at the time, in the bank, 
and, going afterward to that store, said carelessly to the 

book-keeper, " I saw putting your eight hundred in 

the bank." u But it was one thousand," was the reply. 
" I am certain," said the clerk, " it was eight hundred 
and something." The poor youth was called on to decide 
the question. In an agony of terror he confessed it, and 
his employers, not hearing all the mitigating circumstances, 
caused his arrest. He was tried, and sentenced to the 
Sing Sing prison for two or three years ; and, although 
the money to meet the deficiency arrived before the 
sentence was carried out. it was too late to save him. 



EFFORTS FOR CONVICTS. 103 

It may easily be imagined into what anguish the poor 
widowed mother was then cast. An humble neighbor, 
who had himself found Mr. Dunbar a friend in need, said 
to her, " Go to Mr. Dunbar ; I know that he can help 
you ! " 

The heart-stricken woman made her way to his house, 
where she was met with the tenderest sympathy. The 
whole story was listened to with such patience as a man 
of perfect leisure might manifest, but no hopes were held 
out. He directed her to the widow's God for comfort and 
support, reminding her how easy it would be for the 
Saviour, who gave back to the sisters of Bethany their 
brother from the grave, and to the widow of Nam her 
son from the bier, to restore her boy who still lived. He 
said, " I have no influence with the governor, but I 
know and love a man who has ; I will write all you 
have told me to him, and if he can aid us in the matter, 
he will do it." The case had now become his own, as 
did those of all whom he strove to aid or comfort. He 
first saw the employers, and learned from them the truth 
of trie story and the previous good character of the young 
man. He then wrote to interest Rev. Dr. Welch, of Albany, 
in the case, knowing that he could lay it before Gov. Marcy, 
who was one of his hearers. The kind-hearted doctor 
had probably used the freedom whieh friendship vouch- 
safed him, as far as prudent, already in such matters ; but 
he replied at once, promising to do all in his power for the 
widow's son. Suffice it to say, that through his influence 
Mr. Dunbar soon went to that sorrowful home with a 
pardon in his hand. The distressed woman was in such 
a state of excitement that he really felt afraid to tell 
her at once the result of his efforts. 

He sat down by her side and calmly told her of the de- 



104 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

lays and discouragements generally met with in cases 
like hers ; how many applications were made to the chief 
magistrate for clemency, and how careful he had to be, 
lest, by false pity, he might flood the community again 
with the very felons from whom justice had just saved it. 

She saw and admitted the difficulties in the way ; and 
then he said, " Still, for all this, the governor has the 
power to do it if he pleases. Now, if you should hear that 
he would grant your son a pardon, could you bear it 
calmly, and thank God for so influencing his heart?" 
Thus he led her along, and then slowly drew from 
his pocket the pardon, and said, " Here, poor mother ; 
you will see your son in two or three days." 

We believe the young man's former employers received 
him back ao;ain, and that his future conduct showed that 
their confidence in his upright intentions was not misplaced. 




CHAPTER XIII. 

The Cholera Summer — Letter of Dr. Dowling — Lahors with the Sick and Dying — Is 
Prostrated with the Disease — Returns to his Work — Careful to entertain Strang- 
ers — Second Cholera Summer — God's Wing over the People of his Charge. 

)Y first acquaintance with Rev. Duncan Dunbar," 
writes Rev. Dr. Dowling, of New York, " was 
in the summer of 1832, the memorable year of 
the cholera in New York. I was then a stranger 
in a strange land, having just arrived, with 
the wife of my youth and two little children, from 
England, with the intention of making America my 
home. We sailed from London in July, 1832, while 
the cholera was pursuing its way over England. Many 
were the conjectures whether or not it would ever cross 
the ocean to America. During our passage of seven 
w x eeks, it was the subject of general congratulation that 
we were placing the ocean between us and the terrible 
scourge. What was our disappointment, on being boarded 
by a pilot off Sandy Hook, to hear from him, ' The 
cholera has been raging for six weeks in the city, where 
there have been five thousand cases and two thousand 
deaths. There are now from two to three hundred cases 
a day. The people are in a panic, and the city almost 
deserted.' 

" Upon our release from quarantine, we found the report 
too true. As we walked the streets, it was easy to see 
that the Angel of Death was there. Sorrow and be- 
reavement were written on thousands of countenances, 

(105) 



106 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

and funeral processions met at almost every corner. 
Houses and stores were shut in every direction, the occu- 
pants having fled the city. The words of the mourning 
prophet came to my lips : 4 How doth the city sit solitary 
that was full of people ! How is she become as a widow ! 
The ways of Zion do mourn because none come to her 
solemn feasts ; all her gates are desolate ; her priests 
sigh ; her virgins are afflicted, and she is in bitterness.' 

" It was under such circumstances that I called, the day 
after my arrival, on my dear brother Dunbar, with a letter 
of introduction, and found him not only the warm-hearted 
Christian brother, and kind, judicious adviser, but also, 
as hundreds besides myself have found him, before and 
since, emphatically ' The Stranger's Friend.' He wel- 
comed me at once to his heart, his home, and his pulpit. 
I know that many eyes beside my own will kindle and 
moisten with grateful recollection, while I testify to the 
fact that, more than any man I ever knew, did this dear 
brother follow out the spirit of God's injunction to ancient 
Israel, of kindness to the stranger : c Ye know the heart 
of a stranger, seeing ye were strangers in Egypt.' One 
of these, a ministering brother to whom he had been as a 
father, accosted me thus, as I entered the place of worship, 
at Mr. Dunbar's funeral : c Brother Dowling, do you want 
to adopt a son ? ' I did not understand him till I saw the 
quivering lip and tearful eye, as he looked into the house, 
hung with mourning, and added, ' I have lost a father, — 
dear brother Dunbar ! He was a father to me.' And 
similar to these, I am free to confess, were my own feel- 
ings when, on the following Sabbath, I preached to my own 
congregation from the words of Elisha, when Elijah was 
taken up to heaven, c My father, my father, the chariots 
of Israel, and the horsemen thereof.' 



LIBORS WITH THE SICK AND DYING. 107 

" But my principal object in writing was to testify to the 
self-denying and arduous labors of brother Dunbar dur- 
ing that terrible summer of the cholera. During; the 
whole season he remained faithful. While most of the 
ministers, partaking of the general alarm, fled the city, he 
stood preeminent among the faithful few, who, inspired by 
a noble, Christ-like heroism, consecrated themselves to the 
work of philanthropy and mercy. Deterred by no con- 
siderations of danger, he visited the sick and dying, com- 
forted the sorrowing and bereaved, counting no sacrifice 
too costly, no self-denial too great, so that, like his Mas- 
ter, he might go about doing good. 

" Though I was at his house every day, while in the city, 
I do not think I ever called without his being either ab- 
sent on some visit of mercy, or else at home with the 
friends of the dead or dying, w^ho had called on him for 
sympathy or aid. I heard from him many touching inci- 
dents of sorrow, of which he had been a personal and 
sympathizing witness ; but the lapse of thirty years has 
left the particulars too indistinct for detail. I well re- 
member being introduced by him, at his house, to one 
poor mourner, who, in a few days, had been bereft of all 
his family, a wife and four children, by the awful scourge. 
He had come for consolation and sympathy, and also to 
ask what inscription he should put on the monument he 
was erecting over the remains of his lost family. 

" The universal testimony concerning brother Dunbar 
was : ' When the ear heard him it blessed him, and 
when the eye saw him it gave witness to him ; because he 
delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him 
that had none to help him. The blessing of him that 
was ready to perish came upon him, and he caused the 
widow's heart to sing for joy.' 



108 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

" I had begun to hope that my own loved family would 
escape the pestilence ; but, while myself absent from the 
city, it pleased God to take from me my beloved wife and 
one of my children. I came back to find her already in 
the grave, and my child in its coffin. I will add that, 
while Christ alone was my rock and my refuge, I was 
greatly blessed and comforted by the sympathy of Chris- 
tian friends ; among whom was not one more tender and 
brotherly, not one whose words of sympathy were more 
effectual in soothing my agonized heart, than the beloved, 
and now sainted, Duncan Dunbar." 

Mr. Dunbar's elder children remember well how faith- 
fully be stood his ground through all this terrific summer. 
His church was almost empty ; and he, as well as other 
ministers, might have followed the people to places of 
safety. But who would care for the poor, the sick, and 
the dying, if all forsook them and fled ? He saw the 
great work of a comforter before him, and gave himself 
to it. Through streets and alleys, from garret to cellar, 
he went, often finding the death-bed and the coffin in the 
same room, carrying bread, medicines, and money for fu- 
nerals. His door-bell rung incessantly ; and it would have 
required four or five faithful men to do all the work before 
him. These were days of severe and painful labor; nor 
did the night bring any rest. No sooner was his weary 
head laid on its pillow, than some panting messenger 
would ring and say that a dying man, in such a street or 
alley, wanted Mr. Dunbar to come and pray with him ; 
or, that a whole family were sick and had no one to care 
for them. Hundreds of people, whose names he had 
never heard, received his care and sympathy, in addition 
to all he had to do for the remaining members of his own 
beloved flock. 



PERSONAL ATTACK. 109 

Of course, such incessant labor, fatigue, and exposure 
to foul air could not be endured long without producing 
their effects, even on an iron constitution like his. His 
sympathies being very strong, he suffered keenly with all 
these afflicted ones. He found himself becoming very 
nervous, starting at the first touch of the door-bell, and 
indeed at any sudden sound ; and also becoming more 
easily fatigued than at first. One night, the air being 
raw and chilly for the season, he returned late from a 
scene of indescribable suffering, and retired greatly ex- 
hausted both in body and mind ; but, before he slept, he 
was called for, and set off with an affrighted guide for an- 
other scene of the same kind. Entering an abode of 
poverty, into which the free air of heaven seemed never 
to have been admitted, he talked and prayed with a dying 
person, breathing, meanwhile, an atmosphere which was 
enough to destroy life without the cholera. 

Immediately after returning home, he was seized with 
all the symptoms of the disease ; and soon realized, in his 
own person, those sufferings he had striven so faithfully to 
alleviate in others. A physician was at once called ; and 
with the help of medicine, aided by his strong constitu- 
tion, he soon rallied. He was, however, left in a state of 
painful nervous excitement ; so that he afterward con- 
fessed that for months he did not ride in an omnibus with- 
out constant terror, and never dared to sit where he could 
see the horses, as, to his imagination, the poor jaded ani- 
mals seemed rearing, or running away. But this suffering 
did not hinder his work. As soon as he could get about, 
after his sickness, — which was in a few days, — he as- 
sumed all that came upon his hands. 

His deacons, seeing the effect of the attack still visible 
in this nervousness, prevailed on him to leave the city be- 

10 



110 PITNCAN DUNBAR. 

fore he should have another. They engaged board for 
him and Mrs. Dunbar ill Hoboken, where he could have 
pure air, and still hear daily from the scene of his labors. 
There he stayed — one night! No mortal power could 
keep him any longer. He assured his physician that he 
could never gain strength while his mind was burdened 
with the sufferings of so many, and he too far away to 
help them. Heaven sent the strength he needed, and he 
went about still doing good ; while his house became a 
home, or partially so, to the families of three or four min- 
isters who ]anded on our shores in this day of visitation, 
and also a resting-place for many other weary pilgrims. 

One morning, while sick in his bed, he was sent for by 
an humble member of his church, to pray for her dying 
husband. He could not rise ; but father Norton, an aged 
minister, who belonged to his church, being there, he 
begged him to go in his stead. He did so ; and, on enter- 
ing the room, found the poor wife risen from her bed, — 
where lay a wailing babe only a few days old, — trying to 
prepare the body of her husband for a decent burial ; for 
the dead carts waited not for ceremony at the doors of 
the poor that summer. Such scenes as these made him 
eager to be at his work again ; and all through that sea- 
son, with the exception of a few days, he did his own 
work and that of many other ministers who were taking 
good care of themselves in the country. 

The second cholera summer opened on the people with 
great terror, as they had tasted deeply before and there- 
fore knew the bitterness of the cup. In the first fear, 
the McDougal Street Church appointed a day of fasting 
and prayer. At the opening of the meeting Mr. Dun- 
bar read the 91st Psalm, and was there enabled to 
repose full confidence in its blessed promises. Strange 



CHOLERA SEASON, 111 

to say, through all that season not even an infant be- 
longing to one of their families died from any disease, 
a thing unknown before for so long a period in that large 
congregation. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Voyage to Europe — Visits his Old Home on the Spey — His Intercourse with the 
People — Labors publicly and from House to House — Interest in Scotch 
Baptists — A Highland Missionary Meeting — Giving to the Poor, lending to 
the Lord — A Search for Hidden Baptists — Desire fco Labor in his Native Land. 

/N the spring of 1836, Mr. Dunbar was attacked with 
K an affection of the throat, which entirely disabled him 
for his public duties. His physician, finding that the 
disease did not yield to the ordinary remedies, called in 
a council of eminent practitioners. It was Sunday 
morning, and, after hours spent together, they decided that a 
sea voyage, with perfect rest and the fresh air of his native 
mountains, were the only remedies, and advised that the 
change be tried with all possible speed. The church, ever 
kind and sympathizing, entered into the case with their 
usual spirit, and generously continued his salary, beside mak- 
ing up a handsome purse for his expenses, and insisting upon 
Mrs. Dunbar's accompanying him, — as he was quite too 
feeble to undertake the voyage alone. No time was to be 
lost. He himself had built strong hopes of recovery on the 
virtues of his native mountain air ; but he had not to wait 
even for this. He had been on the sea but a short time 
when his symptoms changed ; and before he reached the 
other shore his cough was gone, and he in comparative 
health. Leaving Mrs. Dunbar and his son — who had 
accompanied them — w^ith their relatives in Arbroath, he 
hastened north, impatient to see once more his beloved hills ? 
the dear old Spey, and the few friends whom death had 

(112) 



VOYAGE TO EUROPE. 113 

spared him ; for both father and mother were now gone. 
He reached Grantown late at night, but could not wait for 
morning to visit his home, where his eldest brother then 
lived. Leaving the hotel, he walked to the house and 
knocked at the door. It seems that the people of Grantown 
had, for several days, been annoyed and alarmed by an in- 
sane man who had escaped from his friends ; and Mr. D.'s 
brother, not caring to run the risk of admitting him, 
asked from a window who was there. The reply was, 
" A stranger, very weary, who wants a night's shelter." 
He was informed that a good hotel, " The Grant's Arms 
Inn," was quite near. But still he insisted that he " was 
very weary, and could go no farther." After a little parley, 
the brother asked the stranger where he had come from ; 
and when he replied, "America," the door flew r open as if 
by magic ! That one word was a charm there, as in 
thousands of homes over the sea, for the sake of the be- 
loved ones who have chosen the New World as their coun- 
try. 

A minister now settled near New York, who in his 
youth was a member of Mr. Dunbar's church, and who 
loved and reverenced him as a father, visited, some years 
ago, his own native Scotland, and for Ms sake went to 
Grantown. There he met with many who had known 
his beloved friend in his early years. He writes : — 

" In 1836, Mr. Dunbar made his first visit to his native 
land after settling in America, and that was a year never 
to be forgotten in Grantown and vicinity. The clergy 
of Scotland have always entertained the idea that they 
must keep the people at a respectful distance ; so that the 
children grow up not only to reverence, but also to fear, 
their minister. There was still a terror hanging over the 
children in Grantown, so that some of them took good 
10* 



114 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

care to keep out of the way when they saw a minister 
coming. The manner of my beloved friend, so cordial 
and so familiar, while commanding the respect of all, 
astonished the people and won their hearts. He went 
round from house to house, and crowds followed him. 
He told them of America, wdiere nearly all of them had 
some beloved friend, related the dealings of God with 
sinners there, sang hymns, and prayed. When he had 
once secured the hearts of the people, his conversation 
became wholly spiritual. He preached every night, and 
the congregation would sometimes hang around him till 
after midnight. The little church in Gran town was thus 
greatly revived and enlarged through his labors, while his 
heart and that of his early friend, the pastor, were cheered 
and rejoiced." 

With all his broad Christian charity, Mr. Dunbar was a 
firm and consistent Baptist, always identifying himself 
with his own people wherever lie went, no matter how 
insignificant a body they might be. In this visit his heart 
was drawn out with peculiar tenderness toward the 
Scotch Baptists, few, and scattered, and rent as they were. 
When asked to preach for others, whose kind attentions 
he had received and whose friendship he prized, he would 
often say, "Ah, brethren, you are large and strong, and 
do not need me ; therefore, what little influence I have 
must be given to the poor Baptist Church, who do need 
aid and encouragement." None took offence, but all 
admired his stern principle and real consistency. God 
honored him greatly during this visit, and the memory of 
it was ever precious to him. 

While in the Highlands, he was invited to make a 
speech at a county missionary society. The collection, if 
we remember right, was taken up before the appeals were 



HIGHLAND MISSIONARY MEETING. 115 

made, or else slipped into boxes as each donor entered the 
vestibule. The small amount for a county quite astonished 
one who had such power over the purse-strings, and was 
taken for his theme. Addressing the gentleman presiding, 
— an officer in Her Majesty's service, — he began by com- 
paring the aggressions of Christianity upon heathenism 
with those of one great nation on another in time of war. 
" You know, sir," he said, " that money is the sinews of 
war ; what would it avail that you were ordered out with 
a fleet unless you had money to carry on the expedition ? 
His Majesty w^ould never dream of sending his brave 
sailors into hostile ports without providing them with sails 
and spars, provisions, guns, and ammunition. For this he 
must have money. And so must we have these 6 sinews 
of war,' to carry on the conflict between light and dark- 
ness. I am pained that a wdiole county should raise so 

small a sum as £ . I will here pledge my little band 

of Baptist brethren, few and feeble as they are, to add 
enough next Lord's day to double the amount." That 
promise was fulfilled. 

During this visit to his native land, he received many 
tokens of the divine favor in direct answer to the prayer 
of faith. Having met with a dear friend of his early days, 
at the time a widow and in depressed circumstances, he 
felt the duty of aiding her very strongly pressing upon his 
mind. He was far from home, with his wife and son, and 
thus under great expenses ; and the homeward voyage 
with its nameless outlays before him. But acting as a 
faithful steward under the eye of his master, he " gave her," 
as he said, " a few pounds ; " and leaving it with God, 
he thought no more about it. 

A few days after this he was invited to dine with Rev. 
Mr. Haldane, and as he was leaving him, that <rent!eman, 



116 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

himself wealthy, said, " Mr. Dunbar, few ministers are rich- 
er than they need be, and your voyage in search of health 
must prove very expensive ; I want you to accept this as a 
personal gift from me." It was the very sum he had given 
away at what he believed the call of God. Who can 
doubt that the Husband of the widow was thus acknowledg- 
ing the act of mercy performed with such calm and ear- 
nest trust in his word of promise, " He that giveth to the 
poor lendeth to the Lord, and he will repay him again." 

" About this time," writes a friend, " he passed a night 
at the house of my father in Aberdeen. On coining in 
late from a distant part of the city he found that he had 
lost a sovereign from his pocket. My father offered to take 
a lantern and return with him to look for it ; but he said, 
4 No, it was lost through no carelessness, and perhaps it 
may be God's purpose that some poor widow may find it 
early in the morning, and buy her children's breakfast 
with it ; let it go.' These worthy old people often spoke 
of this afterward, saying, w they ne'er saw the like o' him in 
a' their days. They believed he wad gie awa' his last 
bawbee tiP ony puir body.' 

" Strange as it may seem, on the following morning 
another sovereign, the gift of a friend who knew nothing 
of the circumstance, took the place of the lost one, in his 
purse." 

While the guest of a noble gentleman in the north of 
Scotland, a little dinner party was given for him, at which 
were the principal gentlemen of the neighborhood, both 
clergy and laity. At table, Mr. Dunbar remarked that 

he had inquired in vain of Mrs. whether there were 

any Baptists in the place, but perhaps the Kirk minister 
or some one else present could tell him. 

A gentleman then said, " There is no Baptist place of 



HIDDEN BAPTISTS. 117 

worship here, but there are individuals of your faith. I 
know one myself, and a very worthy man he is. I will 
give you his address, and he can tell you all about those 
brethren of yours," lie added with a smile. 

" Well, sir," replied Mr. Dunbar, " I'll ferret them out 
if there are any. I find my people in Scotland have a great 
habit of hiding themselves in corners." 

He was directed to the one discoverable Baptist, and from 
him learned the location of their place of worship. It was 

something like this : u Go up street, till you come to 

a ' close ; ? turning in by the store of , follow 

that till you come to a narrower ; close,' and go up that 
till you see a cooper's shop. Beside that is a flight of out- 
side stairs ; go up them, and turn to your right till you 
come to another flight, and at the head of these ye' 11 find 
the room we meet in." 

" How long has your church been formed ? " asked Mr; 
Dunbar. 

" Twenty years or thereabout, and w T e've worshipped 
all the time in yon same room," was the good man's 
reply. 

" How large is your church ? " asked Mr. Dunbar. 

" We have about twenty-five or thirty members, sir." 

" And how large a congregation ? " 

" Thirty-five or forty ; just ourselves and our own chil- 
dren, sir." 

" And you are real Baptists, — are you ? " 

" Oh, ay, sir, we are indeed." 

" And you believe that your principles are of suffi- 
cient importance to warrant your separating yourselves 
from your Christian brethren of other denominations ? " 

u Ay, sir, we do." 

" Well, then, my dear man, what are vou thinking of? 



118 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

You believe that God's will is revealed plainly to you on 
a disputed point, and that you must bear your testimony 
on the subject to your fellow-men ; and yet you hide 
yourselves as if ashamed of your sentiments. I have 

been in a week, inquiring of every one if there 

were any of my own denomination here ; and not till 
yesterday could I find a person who had ever heard of 
one ! You see what progress you are making in that 
1 upper chamber.' You have in twenty years gathered a 
congregation of thirty -five or forty ! If I could stay a 
little while, I would draw you out of that ; close ' into a 
place where men could find you. I would preach and 
pray and sing with you till every man and woman should 
ask, c Who are these people, and what do they believe, that 
they are so earnest ? ' I should let all in town know in 
twenty-four hours that there was a Baptist church here. 
If your opinions are of no importance, you should have 
stayed where the gospel is preached by good men, not Bap- 
tists ; if they are, you should tell your friends and neigh- 
bors your reason for breaking up your old relations. 
When Christ came to establish the first Christian church, 
he and his disciples sometimes met in an upper chamber 
for fear of the Jews ; but they didn't stay there comfort- 
ing each other in the hopes beyond. They went out and 
preached by the wayside, on the shore, in the market- 
place, — wherever they could reach men. Now, my dear 
man, if they had lived and died in that upper chamber, as 
you are doing, how far do you think their teaching and 
example would have spread ? If your people ever expect 
to do anything in Scotland, they will have to follow their 
footsteps." 

Soon after this, Mr. Dunbar returned to America, but 
his heart was full of love to these brethren, and he felt a 



HIDDEN BAPTISTS. 119 

strong desire to see them arise and labor, and become a 
power for good in the land. He could cry with John 
Knox, " Give me Scotland, or I die." 

It was at this time Mr. Dunbar's full intention to re- 
turn again with his family and lay the foundation of a 
mission among his brethren, striving to form the many 
little scattered bands into regular churches, under judi- 
cious and well-qualified pastors. He corresponded with 
many of the most influential men in the denomination, 
and received much encouragement from all w T ith whom 
he conversed. But this was not in God's will concern- 
ing him ; he had still work to do in McDougal Street. 
There were very many souls yet to be given him there, 
and there were storms and darkness before the church, 
through which he w r as to stand at the helm and guide 
her into calmer waters. His Master had drawn out a plan 
for him, and, although at times he panted for work at 
home, he fell cheerfully into his own place, not daring 
to go contrary to the Divine will. His interest in 
this subject ended only with his life. Other hands must 
take up the work he planned and carry it to perfection. 
Whose shall they be ? 




CHAPTER XV. 

First Record of Interest in the Negro — Pro-Slavery Riots of 1834 — His Church formed 
on Anti-Slavery Principles — Associational Letters — The Triennial Convention at 
Richmond (1835) — A Pious Slaveholder — A Distracted Mother — A Visitor from 
Florida — His Model Christian — Ned Dudley —Buying Sally — The Rolls Slaves — 
John D ; how God rewarded his humble Hospitality. 

)HEN Mr. Dunbar was residing in New Bruns- 
wick, he received an invitation from the Baptist 
Church in Frederickton, probably in the year 
1819, to become their pastor. From his reply we 
extract the following : — 

" If God, by his sovereign grace, should add to 
your number any of the unfortunate sons and daughters of 
Africa, would you, as a church, be willing, without respect 
of persons, to treat them as the redeemed of the Lord in all 
tliino-s relating to the ordinances and privileges of the gos- 
pel, and to discipline them according to the laws of Christ, 
when it appeared at any time they abused such privileges 
as food for their pride ? " 

This is the first record we find of Mr. Dunbar's peculiar 
sympathy for the oppressed people of color. The journal 
he kept of his labors in New Brunswick frequently al- 
luded to this class in the same spirit. It was of his gener- 
ous and kindly nature, and also an inseparable part of his 
religion, as a follower of Christ, to feel for the suffering 
and outcast of every race and coloi. 

In New r York, he identified himself fully with anti-sla- 
very men, and was at one time president of the New York 

(120) 



PRO-SLAVERY RIOTS. 121 

City Anti-Slavery Society, never hesitating, in public or in 
private, to utter his opinion of slavery as a great crime 
against God and humanity. And this he did when it 
cost something to be an abolitionist, — when that name was 
a term of reproach, and not seldom involved persecution. 
Amid the frightful riots which disgraced New York in 
the year 1834, and which terrified into silence some noted 
associates in the anti-slavery cause, he maintained his con- 
sistency, continuing through all opposition a stanch and 
outspoken friend of human liberty. 

While the rioters were battering the windows of the 
Spring Street Presbyterian Church, on the right hand, 
and the private residence of Dr. Samuel H. Cox, on 
the left, and alarming the whole city, a cautious brother 
in Mr. Dunbar's church, knowing that his pastor had re- 
cently appeared on the platform, at a meeting of the Amer- 
ican and Foreign Anti-Slavery Society, — a meeting which 
was particularly offensive to the enemies of freedom, — 
came and offered to unscrew his door-plate, lest the riot- 
ers should assail his house, which, with others belonging 
to obnoxious individuals, had been marked for attack. " By 
no means, my brother/' was the calm but firm reply. k " I 
have done nothing to be ashamed of, and I will not hide 
my colors." 

The church over which he presided in New York was 
formed while slavery was yet existing in the State, and it 
held an almost solitary distinction as expressly recognizing 
the full rights of man. One of its articles of faith declared 
disfellowship of all who held slaves, or trafficked in human 
beings. 

The annual letters of this church to the Association, af- 
ter Mr. Dunbar became their pastor, which were written 
by him, breath the spirit of freedom, and, in the light 
n 



122 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

of current events (1885), seem almost prophetic. They 
were not always listened to with pleasure ; for many good 
men in that day were averse to the agitation of the 
subject of slavery as threatening the peace of Zion. Some 
of them warned him, plead with him, and even rebuked 
him ; but speak he must, and speak he did, whether men 
would hear or forbear. He lived to see the complete 
triumph of the views which he so long maintained almost 
single-handed and amid much reproach. 

We select a few passages from these letters, the first 
dated May 81, 1836 : — 

" In every quarter of the globe tyrants are beginning to 
tremble, and there is a growing conviction amono; civilized 
communities that Bible knowledge and human liberty 
must perish or prosper together. Ethiopia has long been 
stretching out her hands unto God i'ov help, and it can no 
longer be concealed that the blood and tears of her op- 
pressed and enslaved offspring, held in cruel and unjust 
bondage in portions of our own favored land, have at length 
prevailed with God. The signs of the times manifestly 
indicate to every unprejudiced observer that the Ruler of 
the universe is about to vindicate their rights, and to cover 
with merited reproach and contempt their unmerciful, av- 
aricious oppressors. 

" Dear brethren, it is known to you that in some parts 
of our country the privilege of learning to read the stat- 
utes of heaven and the record of the glorious gospel of the 
blessed God is by law denied to the unhappy sons and 
daughters of injured Africa ; nor is it a secret that pastors 
and church-members sell to the highest bidder their 
brethren and sisters in Christ, communicants with them at 
the table of the Lord ! And when we inform you that it 
is an article of our faith, in which we have been long and 



LETTERS. 123 

happily united as a church, ' that no slave-holder, or 
person that traffics in human beings, is a fit member of a 
church of Christ,' you will not wonder that, as friends of 
Gud and of man, we should in this place congratulate our- 
selves and you on the evidences which thicken around us 
that God is about to banish from his churches and from 
the land the guilt and disgrace which the shameful system 
of slavery has entailed upon them. Surely, brethren, 'the 
needy shall not always be forgotten,' for ' God is a refuge 
for the oppressed ; ' and shall not we, Baptists, above all 
people who are blessed with liberty and the free pursuit 
of happiness, lift up one united cry to the throne of 
mercy and justice, that liberty, political and religious, may 
be speedily and universally proclaimed and enjoyed, from 
the rising of the sun to the going down of the same, until 
the whole earth shall be ' filled with the knowledge of the 
Lord ? ' " 

Again, in 1839 : — 

" How painful, after having, as a denomination, suf- 
fered for our love of liberty and defence of the universal 
rights of conscience as the gift of God to all mankind, to 
hear it stated that at the South, the Baptists, both 
ministers and people, are generally slave-holders ; while 
those at the North usually neglect, as a matter of pru- 
dence, to plead the cause of the oppressed ! Brethren, has 
it come to this with us Baptists ? No, blessed be God ! 
We have to inform you with gratitude to the compas- 
sionate Redeemer, who has all power in heaven and 
upon earth, that every Baptist Association but one, in 
all Massachusetts, passed resolutions at its annual ses- 
sion, last year, condemnatory of the horrid system of 
slavery as it exists in this country. In October, 1837, 
a Convention of Baptists in New Hampshire, representing 



124 DUNCAN DUNBAR, 

3500 members, unanimously denounced, in strong reso- 
lutions, American Slavery as a system of robbery the most 

aggravated And, as we have ascertained 

to our satisfaction, that in every portion of our free 
States except the cities of New York, Boston, and 
Philadelphia, and some few towns of less note, our 
brethren have looked at the subject, and are more than 
beginning to act, we cherish the blessed hope that the guilt 
and reproach of this cursed system of slavery will soon be 
wiped away from the escutcheon of American Baptists." 

The next is dated May 31, 1842, addressed to the N. 
Y. Association, meeting with the First Church, Broome 
street, New York : — 

" We moreover hope that the claims of oppressed 
humanity will not forever be shutout from the sympathies 
and deliberations of the New York Baptist Association. 
We are perfectly aware that this department of Christian 
philanthropy is unpopular in the eye of political partisans, 
and that time-serving professors of Christianity will con- 
temptuously frown upon the very efforts which the 
providence of God may put forth to break every yoke 
and to let the oppressed go free ; but, dear brethren, we 
shall continue to hope better things of you. The holy 
religion which you profess is emphatically a system of love 
and mercy, and of good will to men. As sinners emanci- 
pated from the tyranny of Satan and the slavery of sin, 
you represent among men the benevolence and compassion 
of your great and gracious Deliverer ; and as baptized 
followers of the blessed Son of God, you glory in the op- 
pressed and incarcerated Bunyan, and the insulted, per-, 
secutecl, and expatriated founder of Rhode Island. 

" For the oppression of the poor, and for the sighing of 
the needy in this land, God has manifestly arisen. His to- 



TRIENNIAL CONVENTION. 125 

kens are clearly perceived and understood by Christians, 
philosophers, and statesmen throughout the civilized 
world, and no man who is at all conversant with the 
character of eternal justice, the past history of Provi- 
dence, and the equity of the divine government, can hesi- 
tate to augur that the ultimate, perhaps speedy result 
must be the triumph of liberty to every captive, especially 
in this land. The rod of every oppressor shall then be 
broken in pieces, and all who are found, either by their 
marked silence or open sympathy, abetting the enslavers 
of their helpless fellow-men, shall then be covered with 
shame. God forbid that your beloved body should be 
among the last of the associated churches of the Redeemer, 
to proclaim before heaven and earth that liberty, — civil 
and religious liberty — is, by the gift of the adorable Cre- 
ator, one of the most sacred and inalienable rights of man, 
and that you regard this high principle as extending to 
all who bear our common nature. Let it be remembered, 
dear brethren, that the North Beriah Baptist Church dis- 
claims all participation or responsibility in the act which 
expunged from your Annual Minutes the harmless but 
honorable ' Resolution ? which, for two successive years, ap- 
peared on their pages, recommending prayer to the Cod of 
mercy for light and direction upon this important subject." 
In 1835 the Triennial Convention held its eighth 
session in Richmond, Va. The Rev. Dr. Cox and 
the Rev. Mr. (now Dr.) Hoby were present, as dele- 
gates from the Baptist Union in England. Mr. Dunbar 
went to the meeting with little love for slavery, but 
he came home with less. He was the guest of 
a widow, a lady of position in the church and the 
world, and who extended to him and the brethren 
with him the largest hospitality. They had men to 
11* 



126 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

brush their coats and black their boots, and perform all 
the little services for them, which, in their homes, where 
labor was honorable, they themselves were accustomed 
to do. They were now seeing, in domestic life, the sunny 
side of slavery, and were in danger of coming thence, 
as other Northern Christians had done, with eyes so 
dazzled by the false light as to be blind to the dreadful re- 
ality. But Providence let them in behind the scenes. 

They had noticed the day they took up their abode 
with this slave- holding sister, a gray-haired negress, sitting 
on the steps of the back area, wringing her hands and 
swinging her form to and fro, as if in speechless agony. 
Seeing her again and again in the same place and attitude, 
they decided that she was insane, and Mr. Dunbar's sym- 
pathy was greatly excited for her. One morning, he asked 
of a fine fellow who was brushing his coat, and who was, 
by the way, the son of a prominent gentleman and high 
functionary, the cause of the old woman's grief. 

With a solemn face, and a glance which told how deeply 
the iron had entered into his own soul, he replied, " She's 
losing her mind, sir." 

" Prom what cause ? " asked one of the brethren, who 
was listening. 

The noble fellow looked around him cautiously, and then 
replied in a subdued tone, u She had two fine boys, sir, 
and missus sold them, two weeks ago, to a driver ; and 
they's gone with a gang down to the rice-swamps. She'll 
never see them again, gentlemen, and she knows it. They 
say she cannot eat or sleep, and that her mind is leaving 
her mighty fast." 

With this fact and the picture of the poor distracted 
mother in their minds, these ministers of the gospel which 
proclaims liberty to the captive and opening of the prison- 



TRIENNIAL CONVENTION. 127 

doors to them that are bound, had to attend those meet- 
ings, where slavery strove to rule the house, shutting the 
lips of many a Northern Christian, and causing some to 
bow the knee at her bloody shrine. 

One morning, several of the ministers, determining to 
see the lion at his prey as well as on exhibition for good 
behavior, agreed to go at sunrise to the caboose, and see 
if woman-whipping and kindred horrors were unblushingly 
practised in the United States. They came for Mr. Dun- 
bar to accompany them ; but he replied, " I dare not trust 
myself there ; for I know I could not stand quietly by and 
see it. I might snatch the whip, and change victims ! " 

The meagre record of proceedings, given in the annual 
report for 1835, would leave the impression of a united and 
peaceful session, free from the slightest allusion to the 
troublesome question of slavery. To outward appearance it 
was, indeed, unlike those stormy meetings which occurred 
afterward in Baltimore and Philadelphia, especially in 
the latter city, when the long-repressed feelings of 
abolitionists burst through all artificial bounds, and North 
and South met in hot debate. But silent influences were 
even then at work, in the hope of compelling the North- 
ern churches to submission, if not to an indorsement of 
slavery. Public discussion was discouraged, because dark- 
ness does not love the light. Mr. Dunbar, like many oth- 
ers in the convention, felt a righteous indignation at these 
insidious movements of the partisans of slavery, and longed 
for the threatened division between Northern and South- 
ern churches, as essential to the peace and honor of Zion, 
and as tending to hasten the downfall of slavery. 

Some time after these scenes occurred at Richmond, a 
friend called at Mr. Dunbar's residence, to introduce " A 
young ministering brother, from the everglades of Florida/' 



128 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

Of course, the conversation soon turned to the then ex- 
citing subject of slavery, the young man manifesting a great 
desire to enlighten Northern Christians and to soften the 
views of all fanatics. Mr. Dunbar heard patiently his ac- 
count of the charms and advantages of the " patriarchal 
system." The Southerner waxed warm in its defence, 
proving its virtues, to his own satisfaction, from the Bible, 
and finally declaring, "When I was a theological student 
at W., I dropped by books, and shouldered my gun to 
fight for nullification ; and if ever the day should come 
when it is necessary, I will do the same in defence of 
slavery." 

It was new to Mr. Dunbar to hear a minister talk of 
fighting with carnal weapons in any cause ; but he was 
shocked to hear one vow that he would do so for a system 
which he believed to be accursed of God. But the stranger 
was in his house, and common courtesy forbade him to 
speak as severely as lie might elsewhere have done. When 
the young man stopped to tnke breath, Mr. Dunbar said, 
" Now, my young friend, do you not think I have listened 
long and patiently to your views ? " 

-Yes." 

" Then, I should like to give you mine, if you will 
listen as patiently." 

The stranger nodded assent, when the friend who 
brought him, prophesying a long session, withdrew, his 
guest promising to follow him soon. 

My. Dunbar very kindly, but with a plainness not to be 
mistaken, then portrayed the system of slavery from every 
point of view ; — as a curse to the negro, to the nation, and 
even to the South itself. He spoke of the inconsistency of 
slave-holling Christians, in praying for, and sending the 
gospel t j the benighted abroad, while they had heathen 



MODEL SLAVE-HOLDEll. 129 

in tlicir fields, on their carriage-boxes, and in their 
kitchens. 

This was a little more than our theological nullifier was 
reach' to admit ; and he cited case after case of slave-hold- 
ers bribing- their blacks to break the laws of the State by 
learning to read ; and, finally, pronounced the whole sys- 
tem Christian and philanthropic, not holding it responsible 
for the sins of bad masters, any more than freedom should 
be chargeable with the cruelty or neglect of wicked fathers 
toward their little ones. " Why," he exclaimed trium- 
phantly, " I could take you, brother Dunbar, to the house 
of a friend in Richmond" (rather an unfortunate choice 
of a place, for it was even then an offence in his ear) 
" where parental care is given to the slaves. The mistress 
is a leading Baptist lady, of great piety and intelligence. 
When I stopped there on my way North, she and her 
daughters gathered the family of blacks in the large clining- 
hall on Sabbath evening, and taught them lessons from 
Scripture, many of the men and women answering as cor- 
rectly as Sunday-school children would have done. This 
lady is very benevolent to the poor, and very active in the 
church. An acquaintance with her and others of her 
class, would, I'm very sure, sir, modify your views." 

" What is the name of this friend of yours ? " asked Mr. 
Dunbar, with an arch smile. 

« Mrs. ." 

" Yes, and she lives in street, does she not ? " 

" She does," replied the young man in surprise. " Do 
you know her ? " 

"I do ; and admit that she is, as you say, a prominent 
Baptist, intelligent, and active in the church, and also that 
she is a shrewd business woman ! " 



130 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

The stranger looked not a little confused, and asked, 
u But where did you meet her? " 

u At her own house in Richmond, sir. I was one 
among her many guests, and we were sumptuously enter- 
tained, while attending the Triennial Convention. At 
that very time there w r as a gray-haired mother in her 
house, owned by her, going mad with grief, because this 
active Baptist Christian had just sold her two boys, to be 
driven like cattle in a gang to the rice plantations of the 
far South ! Did you ever hear of that ? " 

The young man hesitated, and Mr. Dunbar asked again, 
" Did you know this?" He admitted that he did, but 
assured Mr. Dunbar that he did not in the least degree 
justify her course. 

" Ah, but this is the one slave-holdino; Christian whom 
you have held up to me as a model, an acquaintance with 
whom was to modify my views of slavery ! " 

The plumes of this young bird of chivalry drooped not 
a little when this arrow struck at his hi<'h nest; but the 
calm, fatherly tone of Mr. Dunbar gave him no excuse for 
pecking at him, or for fluttering off in a passion. 

Mr. Dunbar then took out his watch, and asked, 
w ' Have you said freely all you wished to ? " 

" Yes." 

" And so have I. Now, it is one o'clock in the morn- 
ing, and you shall not leave my house at such an hour. 
Dr. and Mrs. F. will have given you up and gone to bed; 
so you are my guest for to-night," 

To this the visitor cheerfully assented ; and Mr. Dun- 
bar said, " I suppose, if I should go to Florida and talk as 
I have here, they would not thank me." 

" Mr. Dunbar, they'd hang you for an abolitionist ! " 

" They would, — would they ? Then see the difference in 



NED DUDLEY. 131 

the spirit of the two sections. You have said all that is in 
your heart in favor of slavery, and yet you're not afraid 
of us. You're going up to my guest-chamber to sleep as 
quietly and securely as you would on your own pillow at 
home." 

His guest smiled, and replied, " They would bear better 
with you than with an abolitionist, Mr. Dunbar." 

" But Tm an abolitionist, sir, out and out." 

" But you're not like the rest of them." 

" Yes, I am, only worse ! I am not willing to admit 
that any man alive abhors this system more thoroughly 
than I do, root and branch ! " 

And thus they parted for the night ; the stranger car- 
rving to his dreams some faithful wounds, which, we fear, 
the balmy air of Florida healed but too slightly. 

One morning, a few days before Mr. Dunbar's sudden 
voyage to Europe, in 1836, in search of health, a colored 
man called to see him, and, as he said his business was very 
important, he was ushered into the room where Mr. Dun- 
bar lay on a sofa. He introduced himself as " Ned Dud- 
ley," formerly a slave in South Carolina, but now a free 
man ; and gave his story thus. 

An old Scotch gentleman named Simpson, a neighbor 
of Ned's master, had a fine estate, but being consci- 
entiously opposed to owning his fellow-men, hired servants 
from his neighbors. About a year before this time Mr. 
Simpson fell sick, and Ned, having a good reputation as a 
nurse, was hired by him from his master, and through long 
months of suffering, acted in this capacity, fulfilling his 
duties tenderly and faithfully. Ned, beside being a good 
nurse, was a good Methodist, and, we doubt not, honored 
Christ in the eyes of the gentleman, who one day asked 
him if he had ever desired to be free. " Desired to be 



132 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

free ? " Why, it had been the long dream of his life, the 
aching void which a good home, plenty to eat, and liberty 
for camp-meetings could not fill. " Well, Ned," said the 
gentleman, " you have been faithful and kind to me in my 
suffering, and I shall give you your liberty before I die." 
But, alas, he died too soon for that, and left Ned in 
the dark prison-house, made darker still by the gleam of 
light which for a little season had streamed in, and then had 
been shut out. Everything was trusted in his hands for safe- 
keeping until the arrival of the young heir, Robert Simp- 
son, from Scotland, to take the estate into his hands. An 
army could not have guarded the treasures more faithfully 
than did this poor, disappointed Christian slave. After a 
time the young man arrived, and received the keys from 
Ned, whom he had resolved to keep by him while settling 
his affairs. Now this gentleman was no greater admirer 
of the " patriarchal system " than was his deceased uncle ; 
and not unfrequently did he express his opinion of it in 
Ned's presence ; but the poor fellow was too modest 
to tell of the promise made him by the dead, and to beg the 

gift of himself. When the estate was settled, and its 

owner was preparing to return to Britain, his own noble 
heart prompted him to open the subject, and to ask, 
" Would you like to be free ? " Ned replied as he had done 
to the uncle. " Well," said Mr. Simpson, " spring on to 
my horse, and ride over and ask the man what he will 
take for you." 

Probably that road was never passed over in the same 
space of time before. Ned was soon back with his answer, 
when Mr. Simpson, with the noble generosity of the 
freedom-loving Scot, advanced the sum required, and Ned, 
jubilant over his good fortune, hid his free papers in his 
bosom. 



NED DUDLEY. 133 

But alas for the joys of earth ! No sooner had Ned's 
brow been crowned with the chaplet of freedom, than he 
found lie must leave South Carolina, and thus separate 
himself from Sally, the wife of his heart, who was nurse 
and seamstress in her master's family, and was to them in- 
valuable. But the die was cast, and after a farewell, 
which nearly broke their hearts, he made his way North, 
to earn Sally's freedom. On reaching New York, he 
told his story to some one, who said, " Go to Mr. Dunbar, 
and he will get money for you to buy your wife." He 
had accordingly found his way to Mr. Dunbar's house. 
Among the inducements he held out to undertake the 
work was this, " Sally is a right smart woman, and she is 
a Baptist, too, sir." 

" But, Ned, my good fellow," replied Mr. D., u you 
see me here sick ; day after to-morrow I sail for England ; 
so, gladly as I would help you to buy Sally, I cannot 
do it." 

But still Ned lingered, with the painful expression of 
" hope deferred " on his face, suggesting again that Sally 
was a good woman and mighty smart. 

His pleading look was too much for the heart thus 
suddenly shut off from all its work of love, and Mr. Dun- 
bar said, " Well, my boy, suppose you go to England and 
Scotland with me ? I have plenty of friends there who 
will gladly give us money to buy Sally." 

u I'd go mighty quick, sir, but I've got no money." 

" Well, we'll see about money ; you may go down to 
the ship with me, and see the captain." 

Captain P., with the noble generosity which characterizes 
the sons of the sea, offered to give Ned a free passage if Mr. 
Dunbar would lay in a little store of provisions for him. 

After a short voyage they arrived in England. Mr. 
12 



134 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

Dunbar had a beloved friend in Aberdeen, Rev. Mr. 
Brown, of the Episcopal Church, a gentleman of wealth 
and family, to whose care he felt quite free to consign his 
sable charge. 

Ned was received with the utmost kindness, and Mr. 
Brown entered with all his heart into the case of Sally, 
giving nobly from his own purse to insure her freedom. 
His liberator, Mr. Simpson, also aided in the work. 
Suffice it to say, that Ned returned to New York before 
his patron, well supplied with funds for his object. 
Sally's owner reluctantly consented to sell her to him 
for a high price, and she was forwarded to New York. 
She was an interesting, motherly person, quite fair, 
and of very pleasing voice and maimers ; and, hav- 
ing served part of her life as house-keeper, was com- 
petent to fill any domestic position. She and Ned both 
went into service, and ere long were able to have a 
humble home of their own, kept tidy by the good Sally, 
and cheered by the crowing of a little sable baby, whom 
the grateful creatures named cc Robert Simpson." They 
maintained a good Christian character, and proved per- 
fectly able to " take care of themselves." 

There was a worthy old colored brother, John D , 



who used to saw wood and put in coal for Mr. Dunbar. 
He carried in his breast a twenty years' secret, which he 
would not that the birds should carol out in Nansimond 
county, Virginia ! 

One evening, Mr. Dunbar, needing old J/s services, de- 
scended the steps leading to his cellar-home in Vandam 
street, and found it crowded with sable guests. Many 
of them, scorning the formality of chairs, or because the 
demand exceeded the supply, were seated on the hospitable 
floor. 



THE ROLLS SLAVES. 135 

" You have company, I see," Mr. Dunbar said. 

" Yes, sir," replied the old man. u Is'e found a heap of 
old friends to-day ! They'se just landed in a sloop from 
Virginia, and I was working by the slip. I knew Uncle 
Gil the first minute I see him. You see, Mr. Dunbar," he 
added, with a twinkle in his eye, " I used to live down 
there myself once. Their master was a neighbor to 
my old master, and now it 'pears he's died and left them 
their freedom. But there's no justice in Virginia, sir, 
for our people. The widow kept them till the year 'lowed 
for free blacks to get out of the State was gone, and 
then drove them off without what he willed them. Here 
they are, sir, without a dollar, and they'se left a lot of their 
people behind for security for their passages up." Here every 
happy creature drew his free papers from his bosom, with a 
copy of his master's will. Aggy, the mother of nine chil- 
dren, carried ten free papers and ten copies of the will 
about her person, as other mothers would hide their jewels. 

With the blessed legacy of freedom, their master had also 
left one third of the personal estate, to convey them 
to a part of our country where they might enjoy forever, 
unmolested, the blessing of freedom. 

" One of the executors was a Quaker," said one of them ; 
" master knew Quakers were good friends to our peo- 
ple, and he tried mighty hard to get our rights for us ; 
but he couldn't. So now w r e got to get on best we can, 
and earn money to send for them we left behind." 

Provision was made also in the will for several aged and 
imbecile ones on the plantation ; but these the prudent 
widow took good care to send North for the others to sup- 
port. 

Mr. Dunbar did his business with John, and departed. 



188 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

promising to see what lie could do for " our poor friends," 
as he called them. 

He at once engaged rooms in Hammersley street for 
them, and interested many friends in their behalf; but they 
were not in a waiting mood, and not seeincr him the next 
day, the whole troop, escorted by John's little girl, appeared 
at his house, filling the door-step and sidewalk, — alarming 
the astonished family not a little by their entree. Some 
one remarked, much to Mr. Dunbar's amusement, that 
people would surely think he was holding a slave-auction 
on the stoop. He sent out to a baker's for bread and 
cake, and fed the multitude before sending them away. 
The ladies of the church soon clothed them, and their hum- 
ble quarters were filled, through Mr. Dunbar's influence, 
with articles of comfort. Soon they were as happy as 
possible, keeping house as one large family. 

Several gentlemen made an earnest but unsuccessful ef- 
fort to secure the rights of the poor creatures ; but the 
worthy Quaker executor wrote, assuring them that if a 
suit should be instituted against the estate for the amount 
left them, there could not be found a jury in Virginia who 
would give a verdict in their favor. Here the matter end- 
ed as far as the poor outcasts were concerned ; but who 
can tell what punishment God may have sent on their op- 
pressors in these days of reckoning ? Where are they, and 
where are their riches to-day ? 

Having come North on the deck of a tobacco sloop, 
without bonnets, hats, shawls or shoes, great numbers of 
the poor creatures took colds, which ended in consump- 
tion before the winter was over. They passed through 
sad scenes of suffering from poverty, sickness and bereave- 
ment ; but not one of them was ever heard to wish him- 
self back with u missus ; " they rejoiced in their freedom, 



THE ROLLS SLAVES. 137 

and all of them proved sober, industrious and grateful. 
Poor, motherly Aggy, after seeing several of her children 
laid in the grave, a sacrifice to the cupidity that sent them 
here half clad, came to her own death-bed in peace. When 
dying, she begged Mrs. Dunbar to look after Sarah, Ra- 
chel, and Jack, which she promised to do. A friend took 
little R. to Newburgh, and kept her, till she too fell a 
victim to hasty consumption. Sarah and Jack were taken 
into Mrs. Dunbar's own kitchen till other places w T ere 
found for them. 

These poor cast-offs were peaceable and well disposed, but 
their mental training did very little credit to the Christian 
man whose conscience forced him to give them justice only 
on his death-bed. Very few r of them knew their own 
ages, — one woman telling Mr. Dunbar that she was forty, 
and that her mother was fifty years old ! One of the poor 
imbeciles, who has outlived nearly ail her friends, was cared 
for by Mrs. Dunbar as long as she lived. It was her cus- 
tom to go to her for a warm breakfast every morning, — a 
practice she was allowed to keep up through Mrs. Dun- 
bar's last illness. One morning she came in with the usu- 
al earnest inquiries for the health of her patient, untiring 
friend ; a servant told her, with tears, that she was dead ! 
and then Meely's loud, uncontrollable wailings filled the 
house. " Oh ! oh ! " she cried, wringing her hands in ago- 
ny, " I got nobody left to take care of me now ! nobody 
to say, c Hungry, Meely ? ' nobody to say, 6 Got warm 
stockings, Meely ? ' nobody to give me warm shawl and a 
new dress ! Lord, O Lord ! I lost my best friend, and 
got nobody left to say, ' Poor Meely ! ' After piercing 
anew the heart of every one in that house of mourning, 
she seemed to exhaust her grief, and suddenly cried out, 
" I'll see her again ; she's only gone up there, to my Fa- 

12* 



138 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

ther's kingdom ! Soon poor old Meely go up there too, and 
I'll see her. I don't want to stay down here now, when 
all my friends is in de kingdom ; I want to go there, too ! " 
Her tone and manner were almost triumphant, as she raised 
her thin, black hands and her tearful eyes to heaven, ex- 
claiming again and again, " I'm going to my Father's 
kingdom, too ! ; ' and we doubt not she will find entrance 
there, when many who knew their Master's will and did 
it not, will be cast out. 

Poor John, whose generous heart w^as so out of propor- 
tion with his limited accommodations and his small means, 
little dreamed that his own dark hour was so near at hand. 
One Sabbath morning, a note was sent to the several 
Baptist churches, from the City Hall jail, stating that " one 

John " had been arrested by his owner, from whom 

he had escaped twenty years ago, and that, unless money 
could be raised to buy him, he would betaken to Virginia 
the next day. There was some consultation between the 
members of these churches, and the money was pledged 
and John released. When the poor Rolls slaves had 
come homeless to him, lie took them in ; and, now that he 
was in prison, there were not wanting Christian men to 
go to him, and by their prayers and alms to save him from 
a return to the dark prison-house of bondage. 

The terror caused by his arrest and the terrible sus- 
pense of the days which intervened between that and his 
release was the ruin of his wife, a tall, fine-looking 
mulatto, full of life and energy. Her reason gave way 
under the blow, and when he hastened home to surprise 
her with the joyful news of his deliverance, she did not 
know him, but went on frantically bewailing his fate. In 
a few weeks she was so wasted that old friends did not 
know her in the street ; — another victim to slavery. 




CHAPTER XVI. 

Call and Remoral to South Boston — Return to New York — Compassion for the Strick- 
en — Charity for the Starving Irish — Letter from Coolany — The Mission of a 
Word — Labors to make the Poor Independent — The Old Ballad-seller — A 
Street Acquaintance — A Charge against " BlackwelPs Island " — His Gratitude — 
u Uncle M. : ' — Knowing the Heart of the Stranger — Removal to Philadelphia — to 
Trenton — Return to New York. 

FTER laboring most earnestly and faithfully with 
the McDougal Street Church for sixteen years, 
Mr. Dunbar received a call from the church 
in South Boston. Circumstances at the time 
caused him to regard this as a voice from God, 
and we do not believe that he ever regretted his 
decision in responding to it. He resigned his charge in 
New York with the deepest feeling ; and, followed by the 
prayers of a large majority of the people, went to his new 
home. This was in the winter of 1844. 

He and his family were most cordially received in South 
Boston. It was not with this church the time of harvest. 
There were difficulties and trials among them, which 
needed just such wisdom and experience as their new pas- 
tor brought with him. His was not here, as in most 
other places, the blessed work of gathering in the sheaves ; 
it was the less pleasing, but equally important one, of pre- 
paring the soil for a future harvest. Much of his labor 
was that of discipline, in which he had the aid and the 
wisdom of judicious deacons and brethren, and by which 
the church was both purified and strengthened. In no 
other period of his ministry did so long a time ever pass 
without an outpouring of God's Spirit. But he did not, 

(139) 



140 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

therefore, regard his work as unavailing, fully realizing 
that no effort in God's vineyard is without its advantage 
and its reward. 

He remained in South Boston but two years. The 
McDougal Street Church, being without a pastor, felt that 
they needed his counsel and guidance. They recalled 
him, and their deacons came on from Xew York to press 
his acceptance. His strong affection for that people, and 
a belief that the hand of God was in the matter, induced 
him to resign his charge that he might return to his old 
field. He left the church in South Boston far more 
united and prosperous than he found them, well assured 
of their affection for him as a pastor and their appreciation 
of him as a minister of Jesus Christ. 

His interest in the welfare of this people continued 
through lift 4 , as his many affectionate letters to those in 
affliction there show. Here lie formed numerous friend- 
ships which will outlive the brief period of time, — some 
of which are being now enjoyed in their fulness where 
there is no more death. 

His return to Xew York was followed by a blessing. 
God again acknowledged his labors there, and souls were 
given him as his reward. Again he took up his toilsome 
work among the poor, the sick and the sorrowful. 
There were no conceivable cases of trial which were 
not brought before him, and in no one of them did he 
seem powerless to aid and comfort. The weakest and 
most stricken of God's creatures found a patient, pitying 
friend in Mr. Dunbar. Many will remember how he con- 
descended to the low r estate of poor S., the life-long pro- 
tege of Mr. Seton ; how kindly he used to listen to his 
vague remarks, soothe his chafed feelings, and encourage 
the children to deal tenderly with him. Once when S. 



COMPASSION FOR THE STRICKEN. 141 

saw others following Christ, feeling that he, too, loved 
him, he came asking to be baptized. Mr. Dunbar felt 
that this was not required of him, and that a judicious care 
for the interests of the church would not warrant it. So 
he put him off very gently, as careful not to injure his 
feelings as if he had been the wisest man among them, 
and thought he would soon turn to some other object, and 
this be forgotten. This, however, was not the case ; he 
came again and again, to be put off each time as gently. 
When, at last, the poor fellow's ire being a little roused, he 
threatened Mr. Dunbar that if he did not baptize him 
pretty soon, he would go off and join the Catholics, Mr. D. 
did not smile at his folly, but said, soothingly, " You need 
not do that ; think about the Lord Jesus, and try to love 
him more, and you will see him face to face by and by. 
He will not cast you off, because you have not been bap- 
tized." Even when entering the courts of the Lord's house, 
he had a word and a smile for any u one of these little 
ones." 

For those whose minds, through sickness or great sor- 
row, had been broken or turned astray, he had the great- 
est compassion ; always listening with interest to their 
imaginary wrongs, and trying to turn their thoughts into 
a more hopeful channel. Many such, when feeling op- 
pressed and crushed, turned instinctively to him as a 
helper. 

Once when Mr. Dunbar went with a party to visit an 
Insane Asylum, a young man who was walking the hall 
in a very hasty and excited manner, marked him from the 
rest, and stepping up to him, asked, " Sir, are you not a 
man of God ? " On Mr. Dunbar answering that he was 
a minister, the young man said to him solemnly, " I 
dreamed last night that I saw that river, the streams 



142 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

whereof make glad the city of our God ! " The words, 
so plaintively uttered, and the worn, but intellectual coun- 
tenance of the stricken youth, touched a deep chord in that 
loving heart. His party was forgotten, and Mr. Dunbar 
stopped to comfort him to whom much study had proved 
a weariness of the flesh and a disturber of the brain. 

Another instance of his tenderness to this class will 
never be forgotten by the family. They were aroused one 
night by a tremendous knocking. Mr. Dunbar asked who 
was there, and learned that the stranger had just escaped 
from a Lunatic Asylum, and had come to him for protec- 
tion. The night was intensely cold, and the poor, terri- 
fied man was nearly frozen, and very wild; and he 
declared that if Mr. Dunbar did not come down at once 
he would break in the door. The ladies were much 
alarmed, and begged him to rouse the neighbors ; but he 
said, " No ; I'll manage him, poor creature." He went 
down and took him in to the warm parlor, soothed his 
fears of pursuit, and, instead of calling in the police to 
take him away in the cold, sat beside him all night, min- 
istering to his diseased mind. In the morning he restored 
him to his family, who were in great alarm about him. 

One day, a few years since, while JVIr. Dunbar was 
boarding, a pale, delicate lady called on him, a stranger 
and a physician's wife, from the West. Her object was to 
induce him to examine a manuscript she had ready 
for the press ; and, after many excuses, as being too busy 
to attend to such work, &c, he found she was not to be 
put off. So he took her upstairs to his daughter, and 
opened her papers. They were elegantly penned ; but 
the first few sentences revealed the fact that the author's 
mind w r as deranged. It was a mass of incongruous matter 
on every conceivable subject; and yet, in her present ap- 



FAMINE IN IRELAND. 143 

parently sensible mood, was all important and reasonable 
to her, and she was very anxious to give it to the world. 

Her gentle manner and feeble appearance greatly touched 
Mr. Dunbar's kind heart, and he gave her the hours in 
which he should have been resting, rather than repulse 
her. In the course of conversation she alluded to having 
been placed, for some inconceivable reason, in a Lunatic 
Asylum, — from which she had, no doubt, escaped un- 
known to her guardians. Evening came, but she made no 
movement to go, and, indeed, did not know the way, in 
the darkness, to her friends' home in a distant part of the 
city. Mr. Dunbar interested his landlady in her, who 
kindly cared for her and kept her till morning. When 
she left, there was found on her table a beautifully touch- 
ing note, thanking him for his forbearance and kindness ; 
and, doubtless, the poor, stricken stranger bore, wherever 
she went, the memory of this to cheer her gloom. 

He believed that the true way to deal with such 
sufferers was to humor their fancies, and the above in- 
cidents illustrate the wisdom which guided his sympathies. 

When the hearts of the American people were just 
beginning to be touched by accounts of the famine in Ire- 
land, in the year 1847, Mr. Dunbar received a most touch- 
ing appeal from a student of the late Rev. Dr. Carson, in 
behalf of his starving brethren in Coolany, Sligo Countv. 
Scenes the most heart-rending were described, in which 
the aged and infirm, and little children, who could neither 
work nor flee to more favored parts, were dying of w^ant. 
Mr. Dunbar was a stranger to them ; but some one in the 
little church had heard of his name and character, and 
thus sent, begging him, for Christ's sake, to procure them 
relief. 



144 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

Then doubtless came up before his mind the horrors of 
that six months on the " Halifax Packet," when the little 
ones cried in vain for bread. Pity was a spring for action, 
and not an hour elapsed between the postman's ring with 
the letter and his first effort for these brethren of Christ. 
He went from one personal friend to another and read the 
letter ; and by the next steamer, which sailed a day or two 
after, he forwarded $150, — the first assistance that left 
our shores for those sufferers. While other churches and 
charitable organizations were discussing plans and propos- 
ing collections, the offering of McDougal Street was cross- 
ing the sea. Long before the applicants looked for an an- 
swer, aid reached them. Their pastor, whose house was 
the resort of all in distress, wrote that a " dear brother M., 
a schoolmaster, had just been to him, in great anguish, 
saying that his children were dying for want of bread." 
They prayed together, and the pastor tried to comfort the 
distressed man by telling him that help would soon come 
from their transatlantic friends. He went away, saying, 
"We shall surely die!" 

Scarcely had he gone, when the postman brought an 
American letter, with the bill of exchange for £ 31. Is. 3d. 
The pastor laid it down on a chair, fell before it, and gave 
thanks to Him who had remembered their sorrows, and 
then flew to the agonized father, whose last words to him 
had been, " We shall surely die ! " In his own words, he 
cried out as he entered the house, letter in hand, " Dear 
Brother M., dorCt die any more ! Here's help from dear 
Brother Dunbar ! " 

In a long and touchingly beautiful letter from the 
church at Coolany, is the following passage : — 

" Dear and Reverend Sir, — No language can express 
our gratitude to you, and the generous, affectionate people 



LETTER FROM COOLANY. 145 

under your pastoral care, for the aid administered to us in 
this the time of our affliction and calamity ! It reached 
us just as we were sinking under famine, starvation and 
despair; but not until one of our most beloved, intelligent, 
and useful brethren had sunk in his sufferings, to rise no 
more in this life. 

kb We are thankful for the names of our kind benefactors ; 
— they shall never be forgotten by us at the throne of 
grace, until we meet them on that happy shore where 
these temporal trials shall be over. 

" To give you any adequate description of our desolate 
country is impossible. A gracious Providence seems to 
frown upon us. Our cocks have ceased to croiv, our dogs 
have ceased to bark. Our strong and athletic men are 
drooping, and wandering along our hedges. Our once 
fruitful fields are now waste and fallow. Famine and 
starvation are moving on apace. Disease and mortality 
are hourly increasing, and our numerous population de- 
clining, not by hundreds, but by thousands, throughout 
our ill-fated land. 

" The humble individual who pens these 

lines is one of those -who have shared your bounty ; and 
he firmly believes that it was the means of saving his life 
and that of his family. And now, he and a few of the 
brethren who sit around him meet for this purpose, to 
assure you that you have secured the gratitude of their 
hearts, and that their souls' petition shall ever ascend to 
the throne of grace in your behalf." 

Signed by John Monahan and four brethren. 

This was but the beginning of Mr. Dunbar's work for 
Ireland. The money he forwarded after this was always 
distributed, by his request, " without regard to sect, creed, 
or party." 

13 



146 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

In other localities also, where was suffering from like 
cause, he felt the same interest ; and there are yet living 
many who will remember his efforts for the Cape cle Verd 
Islands, when visited by a terrible famine. So fervent 
were his appeals in public, that, on one occasion, he hav- 
ing led the way, by giving freely, jewels were laid on 
the plate by those who had not all the money they desired 
to give. His friend Rev. Mr. H. being in the pulpit with 
him, and his feelings going beyond his means, rose, 
drew out his watch, and leaned over to cast it in among the 
offerings. But Mr. D., who knew his circumstances, qui- 
etly took it out of his hand. He never expected others 
to make the severe sacrifices that he himself did. 

To a person in straitened circumstances, he w T rote : — 

" I am pushed for time, and write only to say, God bless 
you all ! Tell your wife to roll up this little picture (a 
ten-dollar bill), and transform it into a barrel of flour, or 
chew it some other way, to shut, for an hour or two, the 
mouth of old unbelief." 

Mr. Dunbar walked the streets with his eyes open 
to the interests of the strangers he met. 

One day he went to pray w 7 ith a person who was dying, 
his path being along the river. On his way, his eye met 
that of a young man who was standing listlessly by one of 
the wharves. That was nothing strange in a city, where 
crowds jostle each other and pass, never to meet again. 
He noticed the face, — that was all, — and then went on, 
performed his mission in the sick-room, and returned to 
his home. 

After the lapse of a few days, he again turned his steps 
up town, to inquire if still the sufferer lingered on the 
shores of time. Again he encountered the same young 



A STREET ACQUAINTANCE. 147 

man in the same spot. He looked at him earnestly, won- 
dering whether mere idleness, or what other motive, could 
induce him to plant himself there at an hour when all 
active men were astir either for pleasure or business. He 
was minded to speak to the stranger, but lacked an ex- 
cuse ; so he passed him, turning back, however, to take 
another look at the erect form and fair young face. He 
carried the stranger's glance home in his heart ; and after- 
ward, when all save him were sleeping, while he walked 
the floor of that study, hallowed by prevailing prayers and 
unselfish tears, it rose up pleadingly before him. u Who 
is he ? What could his errand be there ? Could I have 
helped him ? " — were the questions he asked himself; and 
then he regretted that he had passed by on the other side, 
and thus perhaps lost an opportunity of blessing one who 
needed a friend. 

When next time the comforter sought the scene of suf- 
fering, what was his surprise to see the young man in the 
same place for the third time ! Then he felt that God had 
sent him this way, and stepping up to him, said, pleasantly, 
" My young friend, it is an unusual thing for two persons 
in this great city to meet as you and I have done three 
times in the same spot. I will tell you what has led me 
here, and then, if you have no objection, I should like to 
know why you stand thus so often, while all around you are 
hurrying to and fro ? I am a minister of the gospel, and 
have been on my way, the times we have met, to pray with 
a dying woman in street. What were you doing ? " 

The youth dropped his head, and tears filled his eyes, 
as he said, " Oh, sir, my errand was a very different one 
from yours. I am friendless, save for one sister, — a widow, 
with three little children, — whom I ought to provide for. 
But I have been out of employment for months, and, al- 



148 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

though I have left no stone unturned, can find nothing; 
to do by which I can earn even my own bread. My poor 
sister is wearing her life away at her needle, cheerfully 
sharing what she earns with me. But I can eat the bread 
of dependence no longer. I am desperate, and three times 
have come to this wharf to end my days by drowning ! 
Something each time has held me back ; but to-day I must 
end a life I cannot prolong without cruel injustice to a 
feeble woman, very dear to me, and already crushed be- 
neath burdens too heavy for her to bear." A wild light 
gleamed in his eye, as he added, " I must do it." 

" No* my son," said the man of God, laying his hand 
tenderly on the young man's shoulder, " you must do no 
such thing. God is not done with you yet. Go home 
with me, and I will supply your wants until I procure 
employment for you ; and then you can repay that dear 
sister, and perhaps provide for her fatherless little ones." 

And he drew him away from the scene of temptation, 
and took him to that home which had been to so many 
afflicted and disheartened ones a " door of hope." By 
the influence of his new friend, who had almost mag- 
netic power over others, the tempted youth soon found 
employment at his own business ; and thus, by that word 
in the street, was saved to his friends, and spared the guilt 
of suicide.* 

In no way was Mr. Dunbar's usefulness more promoted 
than by this habit of speaking to strangers. " The cause 
he knew not, he sought out." 

A few years ago, he noticed a delicate, dejected-looking 
lady in his conoreo-ation, and made an effort at the close 
of a service to speak to her. She was a member of a Bap- 

*■ Written for " The Macedonian. " 



THE FORSAKEN ONE. 149 

tist church in another city, and had come to New York to 
reside. She was asked to his house, and Mrs. Dunbar, 
being touched with her lonely and melancholy state, be- 
came much interested in her. Ere long, the stranger con- 
fided to her her sad history. 

She was an orphan, with a little property, and had, 
from her earliest girlhood, been engaged to a young man 
of much promise in the church to which she belonged. He 
had commenced a course of study for the ministry, and, as 
his prospects of success were most flattering, of course the 
future was very bright before her. Thus, through long 
years of patient waiting, her happiness was closely woven 
with his progress. But, in an evil hour, ambition, or some 
other device of the Evil One, tempted him to believe that 
another than she was more suited to his growing taste ; 
and he forsook the poor, faithful heart that from childhood 
had trusted in him. He finished his studies, and married, 
and settled, as a minister of Jesus Christ, in the very city, 
we believe, where she lived. This crushing of her life's 
hope was her death, — slow, but certain. Home, where 
this was ever before her mind, w T as the last place she wished 
to be in. She became restless and uneasy, and at length 
left her home, unknown to the kind brother with whom 
she lived, and was now trying to earn her bread by her 
needle, the privacy of her departure preventing any provis- 
ion being made for her among strangers. Mr. Dunbar 
wrote to a minister in that city, and learned that her pain- 
ful story was but too true. All efforts to induce her to 
return, or even to report herself to her friends, were un- 
availing ; she desired only to hide her sorrows among 
strangers. Mrs. Dunbar employed her herself, and intro- 
duced her to others ; but her spirit was broken. Every- 
thing that kindness and sympathy could do for her was 

13* 



150 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

done in the few months that she came and went there , 
but " a wounded spirit who can bear ? " 

One day, a strange person, at whose house Miss W. 
lived, called to tell Mrs. Dunbar that she was ill. She 
visited her at once, but found her insensible. Every 
attention, with medical advice, was provided, but in 
vain. God was mercifully drawing her troubled life to a 
close. 

There was little display at that poor girl's funeral. A 
few strangers, a prayer, a hearse, — but no mourners. 
One carriage, in which were Mr. and Mrs. Dunbar and 
the kind friend who so often accompanied the latter on 
errands of mercy, followed the remains to Greenwood. 
And thus ended a tragedy for which human law has no 
penalty. 

Mr. Dunbar's sense of honor and justice revolted at the 
course of the man who had wrought this ruin ; and yet so 
great were his forbearance and pity, that, when asked his 
name by the writer of this sketch, he replied, " Never 
mind, — lie will suffer enough punishment when he hears 
of her death, without my giving publicity to his sin. We 
are all sinners, and if God has forgiven him, and is allow- 
ing him to work for him, I shall not interfere." 

While he was ever free in giving, he was fully impressed 
with the importance of encouraging the poor to become, 
by industry and patience, independent. When men of 
spirit came to him, depressed because they could find no 
employment, he made it his own business to aid them in 
the search for it. Hundreds, we doubt not, are living to- 
day in ease, and many in affluence, who sought him, heart- 
sick from hope deferred, and crushed by the cold, rough 
answers they met in looking for work. While his kind 
word cheered them, and his delicate "loan" kept them 



LOVE TO THE POOR. 151 

alive in the mean time, his active efforts and wide influ- 
ence put them in the road to competency or wealth. 
Burns says : — 

" See yonder poor, o'erlabored wight, 

So abject, mean, and vile, 
Who begs a brother of the earth 

To give him leave to toil ; 
And see his lordly fellow-worm 
The poor petition spurn ! " 

We doubt if ever an honest, sober man, seeking his in- 
fluence to get employment, was turned coldly away. So 
far did he carry this, that his study, in times of depres- 
sion, often looked like an intelligence office for an hour 
after breakfast. 

" His love to the poor," says Rev. Mr. Paulin, u was with- 
out bounds. He would subject himself to any amount of ex- 
ertion to procure employment for the healthy, and charity 
for the aged and the sick. Well do I remember his 
hearing, one night, of a poor widow suffering with her 
little ones in a comfortless basement. Having no one to 
send by night, he went himself, carrying a large basket of 
provisions. But when he reached the wretched abode, 
there was neither light nor fire. He at once sent out and 
bought candles, had chips and shavings brought from a 
carpenter's shop, and saw the feeble mother preparing the 
first warm meal her children had eaten in two days. Hav- 
ing made them as comfortable as he could for the time 
being, he went thence to his evening meeting, there to 
rouse the never-failing sympathies of the sisters of McDou- 
gal Street on her behalf. After that the widow's family 
were well cared for as long as they needed aid. 

M I have known many young men, strangers in the city 5 



152 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

to go to him with letters of introduction from ministers and 
others who knew his noble heart. These were usually in 
search of situations, and often bore the sad traces only of 
their better days ; so that their personal appearance was 
almost a barrier to success. Often has he taken such to a 
tailor and provided them with a complete outfit, with 
the understanding that they should settle the bill when 
able to do so, he becoming responsible for it. But too 
often he was left to pay it himself; and the w^orst I ever 
heard him say in such cases, was, c Alas, alas, for poor 
human nature ! ' 

M One little incident occurred when I was a young pro- 
fessor, which made an abiding impression on my mind. I 
went with him to Nassau street, to attend a meeting com- 
posed mostly of ministers. Many were already there ; but 
before the opening of the meeting, a poor-looking man 
came in, selling ballads. He began at the door, offering 
them to all as he passed round the room. Some reproved 
him for selling such foolish things, and others looked stern- 
ly at him, as if they, too, thought he might better be at 
work ; and, I confess, that was my own opinion. Mr. 
Dunbar sat very near the door, and the man, as he was 
going out, urged him to buy one of his songs. He looked 
up in the poor creature's face with a smile, entered into 
conversation with him, and found that he was a stranger, 
who could find no work, and was penniless. He had taken 
his last shilling and bought these ballads, hoping thus to 
make enough to buy his bread for one day at least. Mr. 
Dunbar then said, fc Well, my poor friend, I shall buy all 
your stock, for I admire the spirit that is willing, even in 
this poor way, to earn rather than beg. Now,' he added, 
fc I am a minister of the gospel, and so are all these men. 
We don't sing such songs as these, — they are of no use to 



BALLAD-SELLER. 153 

ns. But they are harmless things ; you may take them all 
again, and sell them to others, and thus double your capi- 
tal, and I hope you will soon get better employment.' 

" Tears flowed down the poor man's cheeks, giving 
eloquent expression to the gratitude of his heart, and, as, 
he closed the door, I heard him say, ' God Almighty bless 
you, sir.' I could not but draw a contrast in my own 
mind between the indifference of others and Ms ready 
sympathy ; and I well knew which would have the most 
salutary effect on the mind and heart of the poor ballad- 
vender. 

" More than once I have carried money to landlords to 
pay the rent of poor widows, for which Mr. Dunbar had 
become responsible, and wdiich he then had to meet un- 
known to any but himself and his messenger." 

Mr. Dunbar once met a tall, fine-looking, but overgrown, 
or rather, as the garments would suggest, outgrown youth, 
carrying a bundle tied in a red silk pocket-handkerchief. 
As he passed him, he heard a most inhuman noise, which 
seemed to issue from the bundle. Looking round, he 
caught the eye of the boy, and asked, " What have you 
there that makes such sounds, my son ? " 

" A chicken-, sir," he replied, w^ith a pleasant smile. 
" I've a sick mother at home, and I've been to the 
market for this to make broth for her." 

Although the boy said this with a strong Irish accent, 
Mr. Dunbar knew by his appearance and address that he 
was a youth of no common ability. So he asked him: — 

" From what part of Ireland are you ? " 

" The north, sir, and I'm a Protestant." 

" And what do you xlo for a living ? " 

4 Nothing since I came here, sir ; for I can get nothing 



154 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

to do ; so I help my mother while my father's at his 
work." 

" But what could you do if employment could be 
found ? " 

" Well, sir, I was fitting to be a clerk, at home, and I 
can write the hand of a gentleman ; but indeed, sir, I'll do 
anything that's honest for my bread, be it what it may." 

" Well, my son," replied Mr. Dunbar, tw run home 
with the chicken and make your mother's broth. Come 
to me to-morrow morning after breakfast, and show me your 
hand-writing. I will see what can be done for a lad who 
is willing to do anything that's honest." 

The boy and the chicken moved off with improved 
speed, and next morning the former came and proved the 
excellence of his penmanship. Mr. Dunbar at once vis- 
ited his home, and found the mother the victim of a worse 
tyrant than either poverty or sickness, while the father 
and son were struggling to keep the home neat and the 
little ones comfortable. So he took the ambitious youth 
under his patronage, and soon procured for him a good 
place in a store. He conducted himself in such a way 
as gained the confidence of his employers, and soon made 
himself a necessity in the establishment. Years after this 
a share was given him in the business. He was ever 
honorable and upright, as well as dutiful and attentive to 
his poor parents. He afterwards married very respectably, 
was enoao-ed in a large and profitable business. 

Mr. Dunbar's compassion was boundless toward those 
who were their own worst foes. When warned not to help 
any one of this class, because he was thriftless or intem- 
perate, he would sometimes reply, " The more need of some- 
body looking after him — poor fellow ! He must eat and 



blackvvell's island. 155 

drink like the rest of us, and if we can find work for him, 
that may prevent his stealing; and if he rises above this, 
who can tell but God will bring him to his right mind and 
make a man of him yet ? God bears a great deal with us, 
and we must bear with those whose circumstances have 
been less favored." 

Such people fully understood him and made good use 
of his sympathies. We find a well- written and most 
amusing letter from an old man, whom we judge Mr. 
Dunbar and the other gentleman therein alluded to had 
assisted. He had come from England, and had neither 
friends, nor money, nor work. After having been helped 
not a little by the McDougal Street people, he had, it 
seems, one night, asked a policeman to show him to lodgings. 
The policeman sent him, probably for good reasons, to Black- 
well's Island, where this letter was dated. In the morning, 
when preparing to return to the city, he was informed 
that he had been committed for six months as a vagrant. 
He writes Mr. Dunbar, afterward, that he is treated kindly, 
and allowed to act in some humble capacity under an assist- 
ant warden ; but then he brings a bitter complaint : " I have 
now been here a month, and if you believe me, reverend 
sir, I have not seen, in all that time, a pint of beer, ale, or 
any other malt liquor ! Now, sir, if yourself, and Mr. 
Stewart and Mr. Seton would be kind enough to send 
me up a little money, that I may get a few little necessaries, 
you will greatly oblige, your humble servant, J. M." 

Mr. D. always acknowledged and, if possible, repaid 
the least act of kindness. 

Miss Grant, daughter of the Laird of Aucharnic writes 
to Miss Dunbar : " When your father paid his first visit to 
Scotland, about thirty years ago, he spoke much to me, as 



156 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

the eldest of our family, and the one he best remembered, 
of his obligations to our father, for kindness shown him 
when a boy, and begged of me to give him some oppor- 
tunity of returning it, if ever I wished to befriend any 
lad. This was the cause of L. G. being sent out to him, 
an almost orphan and friendless youth. You know how 
much he did for him, fully redeeming his promise to us. I 
could tell you much of his interest in the Free Church 
movement in this country, and how he set about finding 
out ways to help us in our hour of need, and how much we 
of the Free Church in Forres owed him for assistance. 
My aunt, the Dowager Lady McGregor, who used to be 
much with us in Aucharnic, when a young lady, says 
she remembers your father well as a little boy. She is 
much interested in your account of his last days. She 
begs to offer her kind sympathy with mine." 

Mr. Dunbar's eldest daughter gives us the following 
incident : — 

" Not long after our removal to New York, an old man 
presented himself at the house, who had been one of our 
father's wealthiest and most influential friends when he 
first came to America. When about to return to Scotland 
for his family, this man, although not a professor of religion, 
gave him sixteen doubloons, saying, c It takes a great deal 
of money to bring a family comfortably across the ocean.' 

" Long years had passed. His wife was now dead, his 
property gone, his children scattered. He said he had a 
model of a machine, of his own invention, for breaking ice, 
to make passage for boats, and washed to know if Mr. 
Dunbar's house might be his home while he presented it 
for the inspection of scientific men in New York. 

" ' By all means, by all means,' was the reply ; and 
4 Uncle M.,' as we little ones were taught to call him, 



" UNCLE M." 157 

became our winter's guest. The machine proved to be 
in its most incipient state in the poor old man's brain ; 
and he had neither money to support himself, nor yet to 
construct his model. Indeed, his mind was so shattered, 
that it was unable to bring any idea to perfection. All 
through that long, cold winter, he had the warmest seat 
at the fire, and the best at the table. There he would sit 
all day, talking about his invention to father, mother, or any 
of us children. If no one would stop to listen, he would 
talk to himself, explaining it over and over again. If ever 
we were too noisy, and annoyed him, father would say, 
6 O children dear ! Uncle M. has seen better days. He 
has probably been richer than any of you will ever be. 
And do you not know that he gave me sixteen doubloons 
when I went across the ocean, to bring you to America ? 
We must now return this an hundred fold, — in kindness 
and attention, if we cannot in money. You know God's 
book says, " Blessed is he that remembereth the poor ; the 
Lord will remember him in time of trouble." ' And he 
really made us children believe that it was the greatest 
honor and privilege in the world to have that demented 
old man sitting by the fire, talking to himself ; for he 
would stay nowhere else but beside our patient mother, 
amid her nursery cares. 

As " Uncle M." used to go about, talking to every one 
who would listen, of his ice-breaker, it may be, that some 
younger and stronger mind took up his idea, and carried 
it out to perfection. 

The sons of this poor man were neither unkind nor 
neglectful, but had done all they could to keep him at 
home. He had, however, become a monomaniac, in the 
vain effort to regain his lost property ; and all the money 
they gave him was wasted in castings, &c, for machines 
u 



158 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

which were never to see the light. So, when they could 
no longer spare money for his visionary schemes, he left 
them, and went to Xew York ; and thev knew nothing- of 
him until they heard through Mr. Dunbar. They then 
came or sent for him, and did all in their power to make 
him comfortable ; but their efforts to keep him at home 
proved unavailing. We mention this lest -any, knowing 
of the case, might censure the family unjustly. 

" I was at home on a visit, a few years since," writes 
Mr. Dunbar's eldest daughter, " when my father urged 
me to call with him on a physician and his family, who 
had recently brought letters of introduction to him. We 
had not gone far, when he said to me, ' Look at that poor 
man and woman, with a child, across the street. By the 
way they are looking at the houses and numbers, I 
think they are strangers, — poor things ! * 

u w It is very evident/ I replied, ' by the long tartan 
cloak of the woman, and the tartan pants of the man, that 
they are strangers ; but the city is full of strangers. Let 
us hasten ; for you promised to be at home very soon.' 

" ' Ah,' said he, fc my dear, I know the heart of a stran- 
ger ! Let us cross over, and just speak to them. It will 
cost us very little trouble, and, perhaps, we can show them 
the place they are looking for.' 

" So, over we went, and father said to the man : — 

" ' Well, my friend, you seem to be a stranger. Are 
you looking for any particular name or number ? ' 

" ; Ay, sir,' he replied, ' we are strangers, indeed. We 
are just now off the sea, and canna' get our boxes off the 
ship, and have na place to tak' them to, if we could. A 
man on the wharf bid us come to this street (McDougal), 
and we'd find a gentleman that was e'er looking after poor 
people ; and said that he wad tell us what we'd do.' 



INTEREST FOR STRANGERS. 159 

" ; There are a great many gentlemen in this street, who 
are kind to poor people and strangers/ father said. 4 Did 
they not give you the name ? ' 

" ' Ay, sir, I have it on a bit of paper here ; ' and he 
pulled it out, and read, ' Rev. Duncan Dunbar, 46 Mc- 
Dougal street.' 

" Father smiled, and said, ' Ah, yes, he lives in that 
house, No. 46. Ring at the door, and tell the servant 
that you are to wait half an hour, till the gentleman comes 
in. I will send him to you.' 

" At the appointed time he returned, and, having told 
the forlorn creatures that he was the one they w T ere seek- 
ing, ordered a comfortable lunch for them. Then he went 
out and hired a room, — probably paying a month's rent 
in advance, — and sent them, with directions, to the ship, 
for their little all. Then dear mother had to go — where 
she had so often gone before, on the same errand — to the 
garret, to see if there were not two or three chairs, or an 
old table, or a bedstead, that she could spare ; and back to 
the kitchen closets for a few old dishes or cooking-utensils. 
Before nightfall, the poor strangers were keeping house, 
w T ith grateful hearts, not having been left homeless a day 
in the New World. This is but one of hundreds of like 
acts that his family and friends remember, the full reward 
of which he is to-day enjoying." 

Some men are benevolent to the poor only, leaving 
others who are in trouble to get on as they may ; but his 
compassion extended itself to all classes, whether their 
want was money, employment, or kindness only. 

One day, as he was walking in the street, he met a re- 
spectable couple, who asked him the nearest way to a cer- 
tain street. After directing them, he said, with a smile, 
" I think you are Scotch, — are you not ? " 



160 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

u Yes," the good woman replied. " And I'm sure, sir, 
you are Scotch, too." And then she told him that they had 
just arrived in a steamer, and that their large family were 
in one of the hotels, while they were seeking a house. 
They had a list of places they had seen advertised, two 
or three of which would have suited them ; but the land- 
lords would not let them to a family with nine children. 
Their last resort was a house in the street they were seek- 
ing. If the same objection were made there, they would 
be obliged to prolong their stay at the hotel, — a thing of 
no small consequence to eleven persons with limited means. 
" Come with me," said Mr. Dunbar, " and I will make it 
all right. I know the agent of this house." 

He then turned his steps homeward, taking these stran- 
gers, who needed only a friend, to lunch with him. He 
heard their history, and entered into the case of each of 
their children, for whose sake, that they might have the 
advantages of the New World, they had left a good home 
in Scotland. He then went with them in search of a 
house, and, having found one, pledged himself to make 
good any injury which might happen to it from the nine 
children. These strangers wanted not silver or gold, but 
only a friendly hand. 

In the spring of 1850, Mr. Dunbar was invited to the 
Second Baptist Church, in Philadelphia ; and being greatly 
exhausted with labor, and full of anxiety about the debt 
under which McDougal Street, like too many other city 
churches, was groaning, he resolved to accept the call. 
He felt that he might recover strength by a change, and 
also that a younger man than he might draw in new men 
to put their shoulders under the burden there. He there- 
fore left his old home again; and none can doubt that 



REMOVAL TO PHILADELPHIA. 161 

God's hand was in the step. The Budd Street Church 
had long been without pastoral labor, on account of the 
increasing infirmities of Father Dodge, wdiom they ten- 
derly cherished, and w r ho, having given them the benefit 
of his strength and vigor, they resolved should end his 
long and useful life as their pastor. 

The church had become somewhat scattered, and the 
congregation diminished ; but there was a strong doctri- 
nal sympathy between them and Mr. Dunbar ; and he 
also felt deeply their generosity and tenderness tow T ard 
his beloved friend, their aged minister. He decided to 
accept their call, Father D. being still the nominal pastor. 
It at once appeared that God had appointed him a blessed 
work there. The people flow T ed back to hear the Word 
of Life ; and a revival commenced, in which many were ad- 
ded to the church. The body was strengthened and edi- 
fied, the truth of God, as he believed and preached it, 
having long been the food on which they had feasted, and 
which they still craved. 

Here Mr. Dunbar and his family received great kind- 
ness, and formed friendships never to be broken. Hence- 
forth, Philadelphia w r as one of his homes and his Chris- 
tian friends were like his own kindred. His work here, 
though important, w r as brief. He left the church w 7 ith the 
kindest feeling ; and ere long God called him to a like 
short but useful ministry in Trenton, N. J., extending 
from August, 1853, to November, 1854, during which the 
church w r as much quickened, and thirteen were added by 
baptism. 

A brother mentions an incident which illustrates the 
good accomplished by the habit of speaking to strangers. 
Mr. Dunbar, one day, met a boy in the street, whose ap- 
pearance interested him. He stopped and asked if he were 



162 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

a Sunday-school boy, and was answered that want of 
proper clothing prevented him from going either to Sun- 
day school or church. Mr. Dunbar, at his own expense, 
soon removed that difficulty. That boy, thus brought 
under the means of grace, was afterward connected, and 
is now a useful member of that church. 1 

After seventeen months he was again recalled to Mc- 
Dougal Street. Great efforts and sacrifices were made by 
that affectionate people to order their financial matters so 
as to renew the old relations between them without the 
pastor again being worried by the church debt. He re- 
turned ; and very soon God sent among them those 
whose hearts and whose treasures were alike laid upon 
his altar, — men who came into the church counting it an 
honor to bear burdens for Christ's sake. His wanderings 
in God's vineyard were now ended. The shepherd had 
come back to the fold his own hand had gathered, to give 
them his last care and toil, and to receive from them that 
tenderness and respect which he had so much encour- 
aged toward other ministers of Christ in their old age. 

From a letter from Rev. Octavius Winslow, written 
many years ago, we extract the following in reference to 
Mr. Dunbar's remaining with his old people, at their ear- 
nest request, rather than seeking a new field. After ad- 
vising him to do so, he says : u Many daughters have 
done virtuously, but McDougal Street excelleth them all." 

In expressing the gratification of his people at Mr. 
Dunbar's visit in Leamington, where he then lived, and 
their desire to hear him again before he should sail for 
home, Dr. Winslow says, u You are not what Robert 
Hall calls c a safe supply.' I shall report you at McDou- 
gal Street for stealing the hearts of my people." 
1 See Letter from Trenton, N. J. 




CHAPTER XVII. 

Letter on Unwarranted Interference in Church Affairs, and on Minorities Resisting Ma- 
jorities — Confessions of Injudicious Kindness — Extracts from Letters — Heaping 
Coals of Fire — Advice to Young Ministers — A Solemn Providence. 

)ORE than a quarter of a century ago, Mr. Dun- 
bar received a nearly unanimous call from a large 
and wealthy church at a distance from New York. 
But it seems there were two dissenting voices to 
the call, — one in the church, and one in the con- 
gregation ; and before he had sent any reply, the church- 
member, more noted for his money than for his piety or in- 
telligence, induced the other to write to Mr. Dunbar, ex- 
pressing in no measured terms their dislike of both the 
matter and style of his preaching. If there were any two 
things which annoyed him, it was to see a minority resist 
and battle a majority, and to see those not in a church med- 
dling with its affairs. Both of these occurring here, he 
wrote, despite his natural kindness, a plain reply, feeling 
that he was vindicating Baptist principles rather than his 
own cause. We make the following extracts from his 
letter : — 

"Dear Sir, — At a late hour last night, I received a 
long communication, to which your name is appended. 
How far your gratuitous interference with the affairs of a 
church of which you are not a member may be pleasing 
to God or honorable to yourself, as a gentleman, is not for 
me to decide ; but you ought to know that any church of 
the Baptist denomination, regarding its sacred principles 

(163) 



164 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

of independence, would justly rebuke any such officious 
dictation. 

" My respect for Mrs. , and my sense of gratitude 

for your occasional hospitality, forbid me to add what a 
regard for the peace and prosperity of the cause of Christ 
in the Baptist church of would otherwise con- 
strain me to say on this subject. Ministers may be found 
who will listen to such unworthy arguments as you and 
your hopeful associate advanced to me, and they may suf- 
fer themselves to be influenced by your unmanly interfer- 
ence with the scriptural and conscientious prerogatives of a 
gospel church, and with their own responsibility as minis- 
ters of Christ ; but surely, sir, you must have mistaken 
my character, if you supposed that I could, for a moment, 
be swayed in deciding my course of duty by such unholy 

suggestions as those made by yourself and Mr. . 

Had I been at this time (which he was not) in circum- 
stances to listen to the affectionate application of that 
church, I have very ample and tangible proofs of their at- 
tachment to me, both as a friend to the best interests of 
their souls, and likewise to those precious declarations of 
God, which constitute the gospel of salvation, and which 
were never designed to foster the pride of man intoxicated 
with the love of ' style,' and courting worldly popularity, 
at the expense of that system of mercy adapted only to 
nourish c the poor in spirit.' 

" You are much to blame for allowing yourself to be 
imposed upon by parties who, I fear, have other objects to 
accomplish than the glory of God and the peace and union 
of the church, and for your meddling in a matter which, 
by the practice and privileges of Baptist churches, and by 
the law of the land belongs in no w T ay to you. I believe 
the Saviour loves and regards those whom you affect 



INJUDICIOUS KINDNESS. 165 

to despise as incapable of judging what is or is not 
adapted to meet the wants of their own souls ; and if that 
church should ever choose a pastor whose style or other 
ministerial qualifications do not happen to accord with 
your taste, it will be your privilege to abstain from hearing 
him ! But beyond that, your interference with him or 
with the doings of the church will be regarded by all wise 
and good men as a stretch of undelegated authority, which, 
in the nineteenth century, an archbishop would blush to 
assume. I say this frankly for your good. May you profit 
in future by my candor. As to your associate in this 
matter, I regard his conduct in a light much more repre- 
hensible. He is a member of the church, and is bound 
peaceably to abide by its decisions, or quietly to withdraiv 
and join some other body. 

" I am sir, yours, &c, 

" Duncan Dunbar." 
So kind were Mr. Dunbar's feelings, that, in the earlier 
days of his ministry, pity sometimes triumphed over his 
judgment, in sympathizing with persons who, having been 
under discipline in other churches, came to him for counsel. 
Not that ever he censured those bodies for exercising their 
rights in these matters ; but, if he believed the offending 
one a child of God, he sometimes used his influence with 
pastor or people to have him restored to the fold. But 
in later years he looked very differently on this course, 
believing, from his own observation and experience, that, 
with rare exceptions, God gives his churches wisdom to 
guide them in the exercise of their authority. In 
speaking on this subject a few years ago, he said : 
" Several times in my life have I, believing delinquents 
to have repented, and thinking they might yet be 
happy and useful in the Church of Christ, induced those 



166 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

against whom they had offended to restore them and 
give them letters of dismission. In nearly all these cases 
it was soon proved to me and my brethren that I had 
erred ; for no sooner were they warm in our bosom 
than they turned round and stung us for our inju- 
dicious kindness ; and became to us just what they were 
before, ' troublers in Zion.' " 

To an absent member of his flock, Mr. Dunbar wrote 
of this class : — 

" Evidently the eye of the Lord is upon this church 
for good. Those who have vexed and afflicted them 
first and last, have not greatly prospered, while I 
can trace tokens of his gracious approbation in various 
ways upon all who have sympathized with and helped 
them. ........ 

' God moves in a mysterious way, 
His wonders to perform/ 

" By the Lord's great and unmerited goodness, here is 
poor old McDougal Street Church still in existence, — 
' flint yet pursuing,' and here is their unworthy old 
pastor still at their head. 

" Be pleased to thank dear Mrs. from me for the 

kind interest she feels and expresses for this people ; and 
tell her not to vex her mind about not being able to do 
more for them. Tell her that Zion's God and Redeemer 
will surely send us aid ! I hear a voice from heaven 
saying to them and to me, c I know thy works, and 
tribulation, and poverty ; and that for my name's sake 
thou hast labored and not fainted.' " * 

* This was at a time of great financial trial, after one of the divisions in 
the church. The debt pressed heavily on them, and Mr. Dunbar was 
making a strong effort among themselves and personal friends outside the 



SPIRIT OF FORGIVENESS. 167 

There were two classes of people who, above all 
others, seemed to have unbounded claims on Mr. Dun- 
bar's pity, — those who had shown him kindness, and 
those who had tried in any way to wrong or grieve 
him. His gratitude was excelled only by his spirit of 
forgiveness. In the early days of his ministry he in- 
nocently gained the ill-will of an influential man, w T ho, 
being under the discipline of the church, tried to justify 
his disorderly course by making it a personal matter 
between himself and the pastor. The church, however, 
pursued its own course, and it being proved that his 
conduct and spirit were wholly at variance with the 
gospel, they excluded him from their fellowship. The 
whole body was too formidable a foe to grapple with ; so 
the enmity the delinquent cherished against all, he con- 
centrated on the pastor. He commenced a course of 
annoyances which amounted to persecution, writing in- 
sulting letters, and speaking disrespectfully of him as the 
agent of the church in the matter. Even then God was 
in the place by his converting Spirit, and the church was 
robed in her most beautiful garments ; but this man 
was not awe-stricken by the majesty of God, nor melted 
by the love of the brethren ; he pursued his work with 
a diligence and persistency worthy of a better cause, re- 
solving that the tender relation between pastor and people 
should be sundered. 

Ministers alone can fully realize the painfulness of Mr. 
Dunbar's situation at this time. Craving, above all things, 

church, to reduce it. And he whose heart and hand were ever open to 
others, met with like kindness for the people to whom he had just returned 
after a few years' absence. The debt was very nearly paid some time 
before his death, and since that, those who knew the desire of his heart re- 
garding it have swept it off. 



168 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

peace in the church, and quiet in his own soul, to do his 
work with singleness of heart ; pitying the nervous anxiety 
and intense mental suffering of the meek sharer of his 
trials, to whom the honor of Christ was dearer than life ; 
he was tempted to lay down his weapons and flee before 
the foe. Then came the fear, lest, like Jonah, he might 
shrink, through a selfish desire to escape trial, from a bur- 
den God had laid on him. He alone, who holds the stars 
in his right hand, and whose servants are dearer to Him 
than the apple of His eye, knows the prayers, the tears, 
the agony of those months. Mr. Dunbar was looking for 
a token from the Lord ; and now, when pressed beyond 
measure with labors and trials, he received an urgent call 
to go to the help of the Lord in another place. This was 
unsought and unlooked for ; and he concluded that God 
had thus answered his prayers for release from a relentless 
persecutor. He left a large, flourishing church, and went 
forth to toil with a few brethren, in a community where 
the Baptists were almost unknown. 

But God was not done with this matter. His servant, 
driven ruthlessly from the people of his heart, had taken 
up his instruments of toil among strangers, and was break- 
ing new ground, and casting in the seed, from which others 
were to gather, as they are doing even till this day, the full 
harvest. But as for the oppressor, who had not feared to 
put asunder what God had joined together, the glory de- 
parted from his house in ways which would have made any 
human heart pity and pray for him. Far be it from us to 
draw aside the veil which time and the grave have spread 
over the dealings of God with this man, from that hour to 
his death. Our object is to show how grace triumphed 
in the heart of God's servant, overcoming all feelings of 
enmity. 



HEAPING COALS OF FIRE. 169 

Long years had fled, and these two had never met. 
When the report of the misfortunes of the one reached the 
ear of the other, he always said, " Poor fellow ! I'm sorry 
for him ! " There was no revenge to be gratified, no un- 
forgiving spirit to stand between his soul and God. He 
read, one morning, of a sad catastrophe which had just oc- 
curred, and glancing over the names of the sufferers, who 
had been brought to New York, exclaimed, " Ah, here is 

among them ! He is poor now, and among 

strangers. I must go down and look after him, pour 
fellow ! " 

Some one smilingly suggested, u You certainly do not 
owe him a very heavy debt of gratitude." 

" But," he replied, " I owe a great deal to God, and 
this is one of his creatures in affliction. Perhaps He has 
sent him to me to prove my spirit, and also that I may 
show T him how grace can teach a man to love his enemies. 
This is the way in which we may heap coals of fire on the 
heads of our foes." 

He made this the first business of the day, and found his 
old parishioner in absolute want of clothing, and every 
comfort, and without a dollar. He hired a carriage, 
drove with him to his tailor, dressed him respectably, 
took him home, and then supplied him with money to 
reach his family. While he was his guest, questions were 
asked and answered about the old place and its people, but 
no allusion whatever w T as made to the sorrows of by-gone 
years. A foe was thus changed into a friend ; no unkind 
word ever fell from that man's lips thereafter. 

At another period in his early ministry, Mr. Dunbar 
was toiling hard, and making great personal sacrifices to 
build a church, which, even at this distant day, confesses 
its obligations to him, as an instrument in God's hand, for 

15 



1T0 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

its present position. He once heard a remark, which 
went as an arrow to his heart. A brother, one who pro- 
fessed great friendship for him, had said, " Now we are 
taking a good position, and have a fine house ; I think it 
would be better for us to have a young man from one of 
the colleges, to draw in a different class of people. " 

The meaning of this was, that Mr. Dunbar's stern ortho- 
doxy, and his plain, experimental preaching had few charms 
for the liberals by whom they were surrounded, and who, on 
account of their worldly standing were regarded as profit- 
able allies, could they but be gathered in. He realized that 
this was but the beginning of an end ; and, having pressing 
calls elsewhere, he resigned and left, — the church not 
knowing the reason to this day. Mr. Dunbar was still 
young in the trials of the ministry, and the opinion 
and remark of one man affected him more than those of 
fifty would have done in his later years. Such discourage- 
ments hindered his work ; and he took to himself, perhaps 
unwisely, the command of Jesus to his early disciples, 
"When they persecute you in one city, flee to another." 

This, no doubt, accounts for some of his frequent re- 
movals at that period. As his faith grew stronger, so did 
his courage ; and he learned to leave the question of his 
changes with his Master, rather than with one or two men, 
w T ho might not always be actuated by the purest motives ; 
hence the subsequent permanency of his pastoral rela- 
tion. 

In after years, the brother who wanted a " young man 
from one of the colleges," found himself in sorrow and dis- 
appointment, and in sore need of a sincere friend who 
could lend him a helping hand. Having never known the 
cause of Mr. Dunbar's departure from the church to which 
he belonged, he made his case known to him, and met 



ADVICE TO YOUNG MINISTERS. 171 

with a brother's sympathy. By money, hospitality, and 
the influence he needed, he was made to rejoice that ever 
he had met with Duncan Dunbar. 

Early experience made Mr. Dunbar a wise counsel- 
lor to young ministers. When one would come to him, 
grieved and annoyed, and feeling that his only way 
of escape was to resign his charge, he would say, u Do 
nothing rashly ; you'll not get rid of trouble that way. 
Leave this with the Lord, and he'll take care of you. He 
is perfectly able either to remove the troubler, or to take 
the troubled one to heaven. Just preach as well as you 
can ; keep your own heart right, and tell the Lord Jesus 
about it. He will make the case his own." Oh, how 
many heavy-laden pastors have found encouragement and 
sympathy in his study, and gone thence to take up, hope- 
fully, the work they were before just ready to lay down ! 
One incident we cannot refrain mentioning. 

A young pastor,, in a large and important field in 
another city, had been to him several times for advice and 
sympathy in his trials. His church was united, and 
the pastor beloved and useful ; " but," he said, " I have 
one man who troubles me sorely, — he drove away my 
predecessor, and now he's worrying me till I can endure it 
no longer. I can't work with this constant chafing. I'm 
going to resign my charge, and if you know of any church 
in want of a pastor you may mention my name." 

" Wait a little, brother," Mr. D. replied. " If you 
have only one man to worry you, you are pretty well off ! 

Brother — is a good man, — one of the Lord's crooked 

ones ; bear with him, and don't be driven from your post. 
The Lord will take care of him. He can either subdue 
his will, or take him to heaven, where he'll be easy ! 
Move straight forward, just as if he were not in your way ; 



172 DUNCAN DUNBAR, 

do jour own duty, and see if God does not take this affair 
into his own hand." 

The young man then listened to an account of Mr. D.'s 
own early trials, when one or two men had power to 
shake him, and of his later experience, which had taught 
him to leave these matters wholly with God, rather than 
run from his post. He went away strengthened by find- 
ing that no strange trials had befallen him. 

What was Mr. Dunbar's surprise to hear in a few days 
that God had come in mercy to both parties, and in the 
twinkling of an eye had taken his restless child to himself, 
where he would be both easy and holy, and left his young 
disciple to toil — for a season at least — unmolested. 

This incident, which occurred several years ago, we 
have from the lips of the minister himself, and who is still 
pastor of the church he was then about to leave in dis- 
couragement. God had a great work for him there, from 
which he would suffer no man to force him. 




CHAPTER XVIII. 

Dark Days in McDougal Street — The Cloud Dispelled — A New Trial — Direct Answer to 

Prayer. 

tLLUSION has been made in the foregoing pages 
to divisions which at times rent the church of 
which Mr. Dunbar was so long the pastor ; but it 
is no part of our work to describe or comment on 
them, and they are mentioned only to show, by 
little incidents connected with those times, the char- 
acter of Mr. Dunbar as a man of faith and prayer, and 
also the sympathy and aid he received from Mrs. Dunbar, 
in his work. At one time, when McDougal Street Church 
was sitting in the dust, and her heart failing her for fear, — 
when, many having slept, the enemy had sown the tares 
of division, — Mrs. Dunbar, whose sensitive heart longed for 
love and peace, fled from the tumult for a little time to 
compose her troubled spirit in the quiet rural home of her 
eldest daughter. After a few days, Mr. Dunbar, realizing 
fully and pitying deeply her sensitiveness for the honor 
of Christ, went up the Hudson to her, to tell her that there 
was a lull in the storm. 

On the morning after his arrival, Mrs. Dunbar said to 
him, " I am sure, my dear, you must have sat up nearly all 
the night. I wakened when I knew it must be almost 
morning, and you still sat reading ; and I see the oil is all 
gone from the lamp. Did you remain up all night ? " 
" No, my dear," he replied ; " I did not sit up quite so late 

15* (173) 



174 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

as that ; but I did sit up till I got my faith greatly strength- 
ened by reading!: the whole account of the fall of the walls of 
Jericho. I learned there how easy it is for the Lord to 
bring about his purposes by means we never would dream 
of, and would never think of trying. And I read also, in a 
Scotch paper, which I brought up with me, an authentic 
account of how the Almighty saved one of his ministers 
from trouble and strife by taking him suddenly to 
heaven. It showed me how easy it is for Him to take 
me away from the troublers, or to take the troublers away 
from me." 

The story, " There's nae strife up there," had made a 
deep impression on Mr. Dunbar's mind, and tears filled 
his eyes, as he said, " I believe that my brethren will sus- 
tain me, and that God will carry us safely through this 
trial." And he did so, allowing pastor and people to 
see more than a score of years together in his service, ere 
he called him to come up where " there's nae strife ; " and 
these last were among the most peaceful years of his life. 

His weapon of defence in these conflicts was " All- 
prayer," and he used it with that confidence which in- 
sured success. His place was not always an easy one. 
With the menacing foe without, the trembling peacemaker 
at home, and a conscience and will in his own breast which 
never yielded to either threat or entreaty when duty was 
plain, it required great grace, as well as real tenderness, 
not to yield to any influence for the sake of peace alone. 

Although timidity and nervous anxiety were natural to 
Mrs. Dunbar, she sometimes rose above them, strong in 
faith ; but it was always after first passing through waves 
of sorrow and humiliation before God. 

At one time the McDougal Street Church, having 
quietly and justly withdrawn the hand of fellowship from 



DARK DAYS IN M'DOUGAL STREET. 175 

an unworthy member, were thrown into no little per- 
plexity thereby. The two deacons, who had borne the 
unwelcome message to the offender, were threatened with 
a lawsuit, with heavy damages, for defamation of character. 
The case was filed and writs served, and although not a 
doubt existed as to the result, they feared it would prove 
an annoying and expensive business, causing a notoriety 
anything but agreeable to a church of Christ. But it 
had to be met. An eminent lawyer, a personal friend of the 
pastor, was consulted, and gave it as his opinion that the 
deacons must take the defensive in the suit, the church as- 
suming all pecuniary responsibilities, as they were acting 
for them in the matter. 

The general opinion was that the movement was an 
effort to obtain " hush money," by way of a compromise. 
But both church and pastor, feeling their full liberty to 
discipline, and, if necessary for God's honor, to expel un- 
ruly members, firmly resolved never to consent to this, be 
the consequence what it might. 

So subpoenas and the like papers, which had never been 
seen by Mrs. Dunbar before, now came to the house, 
causing her great distress. The deacons and other ju- 
dicious brethren always sympathizing with her sensitive- 
ness, did all in their power to quiet her fears, by assuring 
her that it must be well in the end, as the witnesses 
against the prosecutor for open immorality were so many. 
But the honor of Christ seemed to her involved in the 
matter ; she could not endure to see the name of that 
church she loved bandied about in court and in the 
daily papers. 

Sleep fled her pillow, and she gave herself to prayer. 
We know that for whole days, and nights too, she lived 
before the throne, pleading with God that, for his own 



1T6 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

name's sake, he would not leave his heritage to reproach 
nor suffer its enemies to rejoice over it. The agony of 
those hours will never be known by any save Him who 
was touched by the feeling of her infirmity. 

One evening, a gentleman in the congregation, in whose 
friendship and judgment she had great confidence, called 
at the house, and, Mr. Dunbar not being in, he asked 
for her. When she came down to the parlor, the friend 
said: " Mrs. Dunbar, I've brought you good news. When 
these people found that the church had no idea of compro- 
mising, but were making preparations for a defence, they 
withdrew the suit ; and that will be the end of it."' 

She said very little but to express great gratitude for the 
result, and to thank him for hastening to relieve her mind. 
But when he left, she said to one of her daughters, who 
was at home, M This is certainly very remarkable ! No 
one can imagine what I have suffered about this affair. It 
seemed for many clays that I could do nothing but pray ; 
and yet prayer did not relieve me of the dreadful forebod- 
ing I felt. This afternoon, I went up to my room, feeling 
that I never could leave the mercy-seat without an answer 
of peace. And while I was praying, I felt such a calmness 
come over my spirit as I cannot describe. I felt that God 
would take the cause into his own hands ; that the church 
was his, and that he would see that its honor was main- 
tained. I did not feel sure that the trouble was to be re- 
moved, but that he would take the management of it ; 
and I left it there." 




CHAPTER XIX. 

Drafts on the Bank of Taith — Care for the Widow and the Fatherless — God's Ap- 
proval of the Work — Muller's Life of Trust — Discouragement — A Joyful Surprise. 

)R. DUNBAR began early to draw on the bank 
of heaven ; and his drafts being honored, he grew 
strong in faith, and in after years rarely ever 
halted in any benevolent enterprise for want of 
money. One of his earliest proofs of God's willing- 
ness to give to those who trust in him and do 
good is mentioned by a friend of his earlier years. 

While in the Province of New Brunswick, Mr. Dunbar 
used frequently to preach in a neighborhood where was 
great religious destitution, — so far from home that he was 
obliged to accept the hospitality of a poor fisherman over 
night. The people in the settlement were all dependent 
for their bread upon the fish they caught, carrying them 
to the distant stores and exchanging them for provisions 
and clothing. 

On one of these visits, Mr. Dunbar found the poor man, 
who had opened his house for religious services, in very 
great distress, — a creditor having seized his boat for a 
small debt, and thus cut off his whole means of living. 
He felt very deeply for the poor father and his helpless 
family, but had at the time no money, except a sum soon 
due for rent. Still, their case pressed on his mind ; and 
after much thought and prayer during the night, he rose 
in the morning, paid the debt, restored the boat, and re- 
solved to trust God for means to meet his own obligation. 

(177) 



178 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

Thus, in their affliction, did God reward the humble fam- 
ily who had entertained him when about his Master's 
business. 

There was in his church, at this time, a family in great 
anxiety about a beloved son, so long at sea that he was al- 
most given up as lost. On Mr. Dunbar's return from the 
fisherman's village, he found a message waiting him from 
these friends. Their son had come home, and they sent 
for him to their house to rejoice with them, and to give 
thanks for his deliverance from the perils to which he had 
been exposed. 

After the first greetings were over, the joyful mother 
said, " Mr. Dunbar, when I was in such trouble, hoping 
and fearing about my boy, I laid away a sum of money I 
had in my hand, resolving that, if my prayers were an- 
swered, I would give it as a thank-offering to the Lord. 
Here it is, a personal gift to you, his servant." It was 
more than enough to pay for the fisherman's boat ! 

Thus for his own wants, and those of others, the spring 
of heaven's vaults yielded to his touch. This was not a 
rare case, but one of hundreds, in which God gave him 
direct answers to the prayer of faith. A few of the many 
known to those familiar with his daily life are given here 
for the encouragement of those less strong than he in belief 
of the promise, " Ask, and it shall be given." 

In one of Mr. Dunbar's voyages to Great Britain his 
generous people had made what they and he thought ample 
provision for his expenses. But on his return home he 
found that, from causes beyond his control, he had ex- 
ceeded this by the sum of four hundred and fifty dollars. 
True, it. was owed to a friend, who would never trouble 
him ; but his noble heart abhorred debt next to sin. It 
was never his custom to live beyond his means, expecting 



ANSWER TO PRAYER. 179 

his willing people to make up the deficiency. For their 
sakes, as well as his own, this indebtedness was kept a 
family secret. Domestic arrangements were all made with 
reference to sweeping it off at once. 

This little sum, which his friends would have cheer- 
fully paid, had they known it, rose up like a moun- 
tain to disturb his hours of prayer and of study. 
He soon felt that Satan was making use of it to hinder 
his access to God and to weaken his faith, and he re- 
solved, in the divine strength, to throw r it off his mind. In 
alluding to this, which, to those not ministers, may seem 
a small matter, he used to say, that in no trial of his life 
did he feel more surely that his heavenly Father had taken 
up the burden he had cast dow r n before him. There he 
left it, and w T ent about his work and his charities with as 
free a mind as if he had thousands at his command. He 
was now amazed and mortified to see how he had allow r ed 
himself to be vexed by such a trifle, when the w r ord of 
him who made the world was pledged for the wants of 
his servants. 

Shortly after this, he was sent for to attend the funeral 
of Mrs. T., at White Plains, a beloved member of his 
church, and a dear friend of his family. He did so ; and 
remained all night at the hospitable mansion of Mr. Ged- 
ney, the father of the deceased. In the morning, at re- 
quest of the heirs, he was present at the opening of Mrs. 
T.'s will. To his amazement, his name, as her beloved 
pastor, was in the list of legatees for exactly the amount 
of the indebtedness. 

He said, in reference to this direct answer to prayer, 
" Dear Mrs. T. knew nothing of this want of mine ; but 
God did, and made her the instrument of providing for it ; 



180 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

not a dollar too little, nor a dollar too much ; but just 
what I asked him for." 

At one time, a worthy young man having procured a 
lucrative situation in Washington, sent to his distant home 
for his widowed mother and two young sisters. As they 
were to wait in New York till he came there for them, 
they were commended by a friend to Mr. Dunbar's care. 
But day after day passed, and still there was no word from 
him. Then came a letter with a black seal, announcing 
his sudden death ! They were among strangers, and 
almost frantic with grief. The mother was a delicate 
woman, utterly unable to buffet with the waves of life. 
The girls were young, and their education not sufficiently 
advanced to be available as a means of support. 

With that consideration for which lie was so peculiar, 
Mr. Dunbar saw that these afflicted ones could never earn 
their bread either by hard labor or by the wearing work 
of the needle. So, with the aid of his dear friend and ready 
helper, Rev. Archibald Maclay, D. D., he found a few 
generous men who joined them in providing for the pres- 
ent wants of the family, and in paying for the best musical 
instruction for the eldest daughter, already quite a profi- 
cient, that she might be able to teach. Nor did the work 
end here ; all that sympathy, advice, and religious conso- 
lation could do for them was done, causing the heart of 
the desolate to sing for joy. 

At one time, this poor woman could not secure a house 
unless some one became responsible for her rent. She 
came to Mr. Dunbar, as to her best friend, in the trial, and 
he cheerfully gave his name as security to her landlord. 
Some one suggested that he was not sufficiently cautious, 
as it was very doiibtful whether she could ever meet the 
amount. 






THE WIDOW'S RENT. 181 

" I cannot help that," he replied. " It may be as you 
fear, and I may have to pay her rent, in addition to my 
own, at quarter-day. In that case, I shall just look to the 
Father of the fatherless, and the Husband of the widow. 
He will take care of her, and of us, too. 

' We have aye been provided for, 
And sae will be yet/ " 

The time rolled round, and the rent was due. The 
widow came in great trouble to say that it was entirely 
out of her power to meet the demand. She was not in- 
sensible to the obligation she was under, and wept bitterly 
at her failure. But Mr. Dunbar comforted her by telling 
her that he would cheerfully pay the amount, and that 
God, who knew his motives, would send it back in some 
way. He put the money in her hand, and said, " If you 
can ever pay it, you may do so ; if not, never let it trou- 
ble you, for it shall not trouble me." 

Very soon after this, Mr. I., an attendant on his 
preaching, but not then a professor of religion, called at 
his house. He said pleasantly, " I came to pay you a lit- 
tle money I owe you, Mr. Dunbar." 

" My dear sir," he replied, u that cannot be ; for you 
and I have never had any dealings together." 

Mr. I. then told him that some time before, he had sent 
out a small venture in a ship going to China, and had said 
to Mrs. I., at the time, " I will give one tenth of the 
profit, if there is any, to Mr. Dunbar;" and he handed 
him just the amount of the widow^s rent ! 

Mr. Dunbar then related the whole circumstance, and 
said, " You see how easy such things are to God. The 
money for that poor widow's rent was on its way from 
China when I advanced it." 

Often, when warned not to give beyond his ability, he 

16 



182 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

would nod his head, and say, " I haven't forgotten how 
Mrs. C.'s rent was paid ; " or, " I can't spare so much 
very well, just now ; but I'll give it, and the Lord will 
send a marriage-fee, before long, to make it good." How 
much those fees were relied on for works of mercy, and 
how much good they accomplished, will never be known. 

Mr. J. N., long a beloved friend and brother in his 
church, says : " When I was a young man and a clerk, Mr. 
Dunbar came into the store one day ; and the moment I 
saw his face, the thought struck me, < I must give Mr. 
Dunbar something to-day for his poor people.' Not having 
any money about me, I went downstairs and borrowed a 
bill, came up and put it in his hand without a word. He 
looked surprised, and said : 6 This is a remarkable answer 

to prayer, John ; for I wanted just this sum for , and 

had been asking the Lord to send it to me.' ' 

A minister, who in his youth was a member of Mr. 
Dunbar's church, and very often his messenger of mercy 
to the homes of want, writes : — 

" To show his strong faith in God, and his power at the 
throne of grace, I will relate an incident known to me at 
the time. 

" A member of McDougal Street Church, who was a 
widow, kept a little store in H. street, by which she sup- 
ported two or three little ones. One day she came to Mr. 
Dunbar in great distress. It was the winter of the great 
fire in New York, when all business was at a stand. She 
stated that a creditor had just called and demanded a pay- 
ment which she was wholly unable to make, because, ow- 
ing to the pressure, she could not sell her goods. The 
man was greatly enraged, said he was tired listening to 
such stories, and asked her, with an oath, how she ex- 
pected him to meet his payments ; and told her that if 



FAITH IN GOD. 183 

she did not raise the money by ten o'clock the next day, 
he would seize her stock, and sell it at auction. And 
then the poor woman cried out, ' O my dear pastor ! what 
is to become of me and my fatherless children ? ' 

u * Would you have means to pay this debt, if all your 
goods were sold ? ' he asked. 

" ' Yes, four times as much.' 

" 4 1 am sorry, my dear sister,' replied the pastor, ' that 
I have not the amount, or I would pay it for you. I 
know of but one source whence you can get help in this 
emergency. I will send you to a rich friend, — I will go 
with you to him, and intercede for you and see what he 
will do for us. Promise to go at eleven o'clock to-night 
to the throne of grace. Do you kneel in your closet, and 
I will do so in mine ; and we will then spread out your 
troubles before our Elder Brother, and ask him to man- 
age this sad business for us.' 

" Cheered by his sympathy, and strengthened by his 
faith, she went home. At the appointed hour, she awoke 
her children, and explained the case to them ; and then, 
as if to touch the heart of Jesus by the sight of her de- 
fenceless lambs beside her, she took them with her to her 
closet. Drawing them close to her heart, she implored 
him to look compassionately on them, and to appear for 
their relief. At this very time, fervent, effectual prayer 
was ascending to the c Husband of the widow, and the Fa- 
ther of the fatherless,' from that study in McDougal 
Street, hallowed by the frequent presence of the Saviour. 
No doubt there were cries and tears and pleadings that 
would take no denial. 

" The mother, after much prayer, put her little ones 
back to bed, and lay down calm in spirit, wondering in 
what possible way God would appear for her relief. 



184 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

" Long before the hour named, the creditor came to 
the door in a state of great excitement. Now her faith 
was shaken ; and in tremulous tones she asked, 6 Why 
have you come so soon, sir ? ' 

" ' To ask your forgiveness, madam, for my unfeeling 
conduct last evening. Several w r ho owed me, failed 
to pay, and I was very angry ; but I did not close 
my eyes last night. Indeed, I never had such feelings be- 
fore. The case came home to me as if it had been that of 
my own wife and children. I would rather never see the 
money than to pass such another night. Take your own 
time to pay me. I shall never ask you for it again.' ' 

When " Midler's Life of Trust " was first published, a 
daughter, at whose house Mr. Dunbar was visiting, gave 
him a copy of it. Learning, in the morning, that he had 
set up nearly all night to read it, she said, " It is a very 
wonderful book, — is it not, father ? " " No, my dear," he 
replied ; " not very wonderful. It only proves that God 
is as good as his word ; that he answers those who call on 
him in faith. I have had a great many as direct answers 
to prayer as any recorded there — only I never wrote a 
book about them." He did not want Christians to look 
on such cases as especial miracles, but simply as a fulfil- 
ment of His word. 

His faith, however, was sometimes clouded under partic- 
ular discouragements ; but God always dispelled the gloom, 
and often surprised him by remarkable tokens of his grace. 
" There was a time," writes a minister, who was then 
a member of McDougal Street, " when for months there had 
been no baptism in the church, and he became much disheart- 
ened ; for in those days it was unusual for a month to go by 
without hearing the songs f the redeemed among them. 
He took this barrenness of his field as a token that God de- 



LETTER FROM DR. PAULIN. 185 

signed to send him elsewhere, — that his work in dear Mc- 
Douo-al Street was ended. He had appointed his usual in- 
quiry meeting several months in succession, but not one 
anxious soul had come to it, and now he had announced 
another, and told me, in confidence, that he had laid it be- 
fore the Lord, telling him that if at this time he should see 
no evidence of his work being blessed to sinners, he should 
consider it a token from Heaven that the time had come 
for him to seek another field. I was greatly cast down at 
the thought that I might lose my beloved pastor, for I 
knew not of one in the congregation concerned for his ev- 
erlasting well-being. During the afternoon, I w 7 ent down 
to the church and into the little Bible-class room in the 
basement, and there alone plead with God that he w r ould 
pour out his Spirit on the souls of the people. I then 
opened the Bible, which lay on the table before me, and 
my eye fell on this passage : ' Wait on the Lord ; be 
of good courage, and he shall strengthen thy heart ; wait, I 
say, on the Lord.' I again cast myself on my knees, 
and poured out my soul in supplication for a blessing on 
the church. It was one of the sweetest seasons of com- 
munion with God, I ever enjoyed. I then went home, 
and returned in the evening a quarter of an hour before 
the appointed time. I met my dear pastor at the front 
gate. He seemed very much dejected, and asked me if I 
would go in and sit down with him a little w 7 hile. 6 I 
told Mrs. Dunbar,' he said, ' that if any one called, to say 
I should probably return in half an hour, for I don't think 
there'll be any one here.* We passed in together, and 
when we reached the door of the little room, I tried to 
open it, but there was some obstacle on the inside. Then 
we heard a rustling and moving within, a seat was drawn 
from the door, so as to allow it to open half way, and we 

16* 



186 DUNCAN DUNBAK. 

entered. The sight that met our eyes, I shall never for- 
get ! The room was full as it could be packed with poor, 
anxious souls, each of whom had come to ask ' What shall 
I do to be saved ? ' They were sobbing and w T eeping to- 
gether. In a moment, the astonished pastor was on his 
knees, and such a prayer I never heard — such weeping I 
never witnessed. Within a few weeks sixty-eight were 
added to the church by baptism, nearly all of whom have 
worn well, while many of them are now among the most 
useful of the members of McDougal Street Church." 

"At evening time it shall be light." 



CHAPTER XX. 

Characteristics of his Preaching — A Sleeping Christian Awakened — Style and Manner— 
Testimony of a Gifted Mind — Cultivation of Family-Feeling in the Church — A 
Dream — A Word in Season — Helping Weary Pastors — Letter from a Young Min- 
ister — Letter to the Association — Establishes a Weekly Baptist Newspaper in New 
York — Deep Interest in Missions — Successful Plan to Remove the Debt of the 
American Baptist Missionary Union — Letter from the Secretary. 

m the earlier years of Mr. Dunbar's ministry his 
preaching was preeminently of an awakening charac- 
ter. He had a sacred passion for souls, and felt a 
peculiar interest in the spiritual welfare of those 
whom others neglected. While residing in New 
Brunswick, his heart was deeply affected in view of the 
religious destitution which so extensively prevailed in that 
region, and, in addition to his pastoral labors, he performed 
much missionary work, particularly among the Indians and 
colored people. He loved to preach the gospel to the poor. 
When he came to the United States, his heart was much 
drawn out toward feeble churches which were in a back- 
slidden and discouraged state, and he readily yielded to 
their invitation to visit them. He sought to arouse them 
to a sense of their sad condition, and to a renewal of their 
covenant with Christ ; and, in connection with this, he 
made powerful appeals to the impenitent, which resulted 
in extensive revivals. Hundreds of souls, during this 
early part of his ministry in New Brunswick, Maine, and 
New Hampshire, and elsewhere, were brought to Christ, 
and the churches which he served were established in the 
faith. 

(187) 



188 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

Afterward, during his more permanent settlement in 
New York, and his ministry at brief intervals, in Boston, 
Philadelphia, and Trenton, his preaching was more doc- 
trinal, though scarcely less awakening, or less successful 
in the conversion of sinners. 

He loved to dwell upon the doctrines of grace. Indeed, 
they formed the staple of his discourse, as they were, to use 
the language of an intimate friend, " the food, the strength, 
the comfort of his soul to the last feeble breath he 
drew in the body, when he faintly but distinctly uttered 
the words, " I have called thee by thy name ; thou art 
mine." 

No hearer could ever mistake his theological views. 
They were strongly held, and clearly stated. The 
moral depravity and helplessness of man, and his supreme 
dependence upon the sovereign grace of God ; the eternal 
election of a peculiar people, who had been given to the 
Son to be redeemed by his blood and justified by his right- 
eousness, as their covenant-head, the second Adam ; the 
special and irresistible influences of the Holy Spirit in the 
enlightenment and regeneration of the predestined heirs 
of glory, whereby faith in Christ, as a vicarious sacrifice, 
is begotten in them unto sanctification and salvation ; the 
deity of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, equally with the 
Father ; — these doctrines, which he believed to be positive- 
ly and plainly revealed in the word of God, — his only 
standard of faith, — were constantly exhibited, and with 
an earnestness which proved how deep a place they had 
in his heart, and with what sacred jealousy he would 
guard them from the assaults of error. 

Mr. Durbar's preaching was " emphatically experiment- 
al.' ' Doctrine and experience were happily combined. 
" He delighted," writes one who long enjoyed his ministry, 



A SLEEPING CHRISTIAN AWAKENED. 189 

" in comforting the mourner, in exposing the peculiar 
temptations to which the young convert is liable, and in 
bringing to the light of divine truth the mistakes he is 
inclined to make in judging of his own exercises. With 
great skill he drew the line between the work of the Spirit 
of God in conversion and the natural promptings of the 
human heart, and never failed to impress the conviction 
that nothing short of divine power could make us Chris- 
tians." 

His pungent conviction of sin in early life, and subse- 
quent severe spiritual trials, which led to deep self-exami- 
nation and prayer, gave him a singular insight into the 
human heart, the wiles of Satan, and the work of the Spir- 
it, so that he was a true comforter and wise counsellor to 
troubled souls. There was often great power in his fervent 
appeals and expostulations. 

One evening, a lady who was visiting her son in New 
York, — a clergyman of another denomination, — attended 
a Wednesday-evening lecture, with a friend who was a 
member of the McDougal Street Church. She was a pro- 
fessor of religion and doubtless a Christian, but, like many, 
living too much out of sight of the cross. 

The text for the evening was, " O Israel, thou hast de- 
stroyed thyself; but in me is thy help." The sins of 
backsliding Christians were portrayed in a vivid manner, 
particularly their ingratitude toward God, and their put- 
ting Jesus to shame after all his condescension and love in 
dying for them. The heart of this stranger was pierced 
as with an arrow. She went back to her son's house, but 
not to sleep ; God was dealing with her. She struggled 
with her feelings as long as she could, and strove to pray, 
but in vain ; the ear of Heaven seemed shut against her 
cry. At length she felt this burden too heavy to bear 



190 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

alone, and aroused her son from his sleep to tell him of the 
informal lecture she had heard, and to cry, U I have de- 
stroyed myself." 

The young man tried to soothe her, and prayed in her 
hearing ; but he, perchance, did not understand the case. 
In such agony was she, that he was glad, in the dead of 
night, to call in a wiser physician. Mr. Dunbar was sent 
for, and came with the balm of Gilead to bind up the 
wounded spirit, and to point the backslider to the last 
clause of his text, u in me is thy help." He held up the 
Saviour, in whom she had once trusted, as able to forgive 
to-day as he was ten or twenty years ago. 

Thus much is remembered ; the life of the stranger 
thereafter is not known ; but, we doubt not, hers was a sec- 
ond and more entire consecration to Him from whom she had 
wandered while bearing his name and wearing his bacloc 

Says an intimate friend of Mr. Dunbar : " He was a 
practical believer in predestination, referring all current 
events, and all that have come to pass since the foundation 
of the world, to the eternal purpose of Him who c work- 
eth all things according to the counsel of his own will.' ' 

This was a strong point in his ministry, and made him 
so effectual a " succorer to many " afflicted Christians. 
Their trials, he told them, were embraced in the divine 
purposes concerning them, and, so far from separating 
them from the love of God, were the revealed evidences 
of their adoption, the means of their spiritual disci- 
pline, and the pledge of their final victory. " All things 
work together for good to them that love God, and are 
the called according to his purpose." 

His strong belief in predestination did not make him 
antinomian in his preaching or his conduct. " While," 
writes one of his friends, Deacon John J. Griffiths, " he 



STYLE AND MANNER. 191 

always lfeld firmly the great doctrines of the gospel, sover- 
eign grace and the eternal love of God to his chosen peo- 
ple, he loved to urge the practical effect of belief in these 
truths, purity of heart and holiness of life." It was his 
constant practice to discourse, with earnest particularity, 
upon the various duties of the Christian life, zealously re- 
buking sin, at times with the utmost severity, as displeas- 
ing to the gracious Spirit, and setting an eminent example 
of what he preached. He was an earnest worker himself, 
and urged diligence and activity as a Christian duty. He 
preached and labored unweariedly, seeking to " pull men 
out of the fire," improving opportunities which many would 
have neglected, and, in every possible way, doing good to 
his fellow-creatures. If the docfrine is proved by the life, 
then w T as he sound in the faith ; for, " in season and out 
of season," he served his divine Master, as a child rather 
than as a servant. He loved to preach Christ and to fol- 
low Christ. 

His style and manner, as a preacher, were all his own, 
calculated to command attention even where his doctrines 
w r ere unwelcome. He was original, natural, earnest, and 
persuasive. As a sermonizer, he did not follow scholastic 
rules, but the bent of his own genius ; and yet his discourses, 
though not uniformly systematic in the point of formal 
divisions, by no means lacked the essential qualities of 
unity. He always had a distinct aim in view, even when 
he seemed, at times, to wander from it to follow out some 
tempting train of thought suggested at the moment. 
Seldom or never did he write out a sermon in full, — a 
written discourse hampered him, — but he generally pre- 
pared a full skeleton, which he had no difficulty in filling 
up, even beyond the allotted hour. He abounded in happy 
illustrations, which gave interest and profit to his doctrine. 



192 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

We are permitted to record the impression made upon a 
gifted and cultured mind by his conversation and preach- 
ing. The writer, a distinguished literary friend, and con- 
nected with a religious denomination widely differing from 
his own, says : — 

" I went to hear him, at South Boston, when he first 
went there, my Aunt P. having spoken of him as her 
minister. I heard from him a most extraordinary sermon, 
from the text, ' Awake thou that sleepest,' which he made 
to be the voice of the Bridegroom to a sleeping church. 
It was a flood of fervent poetry, — which is the natural 
language of spiritual revelation in our age no less than 
in the old Hebrew times, — enough to ' create a soul un- 
der the ribs of death ; ' and it did awake that church, at 
least for a season. I went frequently to hear him ; and I 
never heard anybody approach him in the power he had 
of making the Old Testament history speak the everlast- 
ing truths that make the spiritual life. A sermon on Ja- 
cob's refusal to part with Benjamin touched into life the 
soul of a person who went with me in a more defiant 
mood than I ever knew any other, and who abused me, 
all the way home, for going to hear such preaching. But 
long afterward, when, broken a good deal by afflictions, I 
was trying to lead her into true relations with God, I was 
struck with her exclaiming, ' I cannot let Benjamin go ! ' 
which proved that, in spite of herself, the voice of the 
preacher had reached her heart. 

" It was a great trial to me, at the time, that I could not 
get over to South Boston, to hear him read and comment 
upon the Pilgrim's Progress, to his church, which he did 
in the evening ; and I have regretted always since that I 
did not make desperate efforts, and overcome all obstacles 
to it. 



SUCCESS OF HIS MINISTRY. 193 

" Mr. Dunbar was a most remarkable person to me. He 
gave me a new idea of a Highlander. He seemed to me 
ail improvisatore, an oriental soul, an organ of the Spirit ; 
as if he had found a storehouse of jewels, in which he ran 
riot, and with a fervor of love would have poured them 
out over all with whom he was brought into contact. 

" I am very glad if he counted me as a friend ; for I 
did not know that he ever realized how much he was to 
me at a certain stage of my experience ; for we hardly 
had a common language, my own intellectual environment 
was so different." 

But, beyond all natural advantages, Mr. Dunbar's power 
as a preacher lay in his strong faith and fervent piety. 
He was preeminently a man of prayer. He believed in 
prayer as an appointed means of securing the divine bless- 
ing. To him it was a most real thing to draw near to 
God. 

Mr. Dunbar's entire ministry was greatly honored of 
God, resulting in the conversion of large numbers, proba- 
bly from twelve to fifteen hundred, in the various places 
where he toiled. These results were almost entirely 
the fruits of his own labors, in connection with the pray- 
ers and efforts of his lay brethren. He had a noble confi- 
dence in God and God's truth, and never played upon the 
feelings of men by attempts to " get up revivals." He 
was perfectly honest before God with his own soul and 
the souls of others. 

While thus laborious in his own field, he always wel- 
comed the assistance of brother ministers during a season 
of special awakening. And so he was ever ready to re- 
spond to a call from a neighboring pastor ; and many 
are the brethren who will remember with gratitude to 
God his fraternal aid, at times when abundant labor had 
17 



194 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

weakened their own hands. He came in " the fulness of 
the blessing of the gospel of Christ," to assist, uphold, 
and strengthen the pastor. 

Sometime before his removal to New York, he visited 
Boston, in response to the earnest request of the Rev. Dr. 
Sharp that he would assist him during a season of revi- 
val in the Charles Street Church. He gladly accepted the 
invitation, and, for several weeks, labored incessantly and 
to the great satisfaction of the friends of Christ in Boston. 
We find among his correspondence letters from Dr. Sharp, 
Dea. Lothrop, Levi Farwell, and other good men gone to 
their reward, showing how his labors and his spirit were 
appreciated in Boston in that day. 

The writer can never forget how his own heart was en- 
couraged, and the work of God, then in progress in his 
church in Bangor, Me., was helped forward by the com- 
ing, a distance of hundreds of miles, of this dear servant 
of Christ. He remained several weeks preaching and 
conversing from house to house, with great fervor and 
success. 

This practice of mutual assistance among neighboring 
pastors was more common among the " fathers " than, we 
fear, it is in our day ; and it would be greatly to the ad- 
vantage of ministers and churches could it be revived. 

Mr. Dunbar had a great affection for good ministers 
of Christ, and was especially tender and considerate in 
his intercourse with those who were troubled because of 
" false brethren." He entered at once into their case, 
and made it, as far as possible, his own. The language 
of Paul he might have taken to himself: " Who is weak, 
and I am not weak ? Who is offended, and I bum not ? " 
He often said, " There is too little brotherly love among 



THE MILLER STORY. 195 

Christians and Christian ministers in our day ; too much 
self-seeking ; too little bearing one another's burdens." 

He felt great sympathy with his ministering brethren 
in their pecuniary troubles, and was also pained for the 
churches on that account. He knew that a man, whose 
days and nights were spent in planning and contriving to 
make a small income meet large expenses, could not give 
his whole soul to the great work of the ministry. He 
felt this policy to be " penny wise and pound foolish," 
and believed it better for churches that could say before 
God, "We have done our utmost," to call on their richer 
brethren for aid, than to muzzle the ox that was treading 
•out their corn. He believed that in very rare cases did 
God bring together so much absolute poverty in one 
church that a little more sacrifice could not be made for 
the comfort of the pastor and the honor of the cause ; 
and in these few cases he was always willing to help. 
But how many times was his soul vexed by applications, 
from places where every man owned his farm and stock, 
to his and other city churches, where, perhaps, the great 
majority never dreamed of possessing even a home ! To 
such applicants he always told the " Miller story," advis- 
ing them to go home and try once more what they could 
do among themselves. 

A worthy miller — we know not the origin of the tale 
— was once pained by hearing that the minister was go- 
ing away for want of support, the church having decided 
they could no longer raise his salary. He called a meet- 
ing, and addressed his brethren very modestly, for he was 
one of the poorest among these comfortable farmers. He 
asked if want of money were the only reason for this 
change, and if all were united in desiring the services of 
the pastor, could they still keep him. There was but one 



196 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

voice in the reply. The pastor was useful and beloved ; 
but the flock were so poor ! 

"Well," replied the miller, " I have a plan by which I 
can raise his salary without asking one of you for a dol- 
lar, if you will allow me to take my own way to do it. 
I will assume the responsibility for one year. Have I 
your consent ? " 

Of course they could not refuse this ; although they 
expressed surprise, knowing the miller to be but a poor 
man. 

The year drew to a close. The minister had been 
blessed in his labors, and no one had been called on for 
money. When they came together, the miller asked the 
pastor if his wants had been supplied and his salary 
promptly met ? He replied in the affirmative. When 
the brethren were asked if they were any poorer than at 
the beginning of the year, each one replied, u No," and 
asked how they could be, when their church privileges 
had been so mysteriously paid for. He asked again : " Is 
any man here any poorer for keeping the minister ? " and 
the reply was the same as before. " Then," he said, 
" brethren, I have only to tell you that you have paid the 
salary the same as you always did, only more of it and 
with greater promptness. You remember you gave me 
permission to take my own way in this matter ; and I 
have done so. As each one of you brought his grist to mill, 
I took out as much grain as I thought your proportion, and 
laid it away for the salary. When harvest was over, I 
sold it, and have paid the minister regularly from the pro- 
ceeds. You confess that you are no poorer ; so you 
never missed it, and therefore made no personal sacrifice. 
Now I propose that we stop talking about poverty, and 
about letting our minister go, and add enough to his sala- 



LETTER FROM A MINISTER. 197 

ry to make us feel that we are doing something." Mr. 
Dunbar used to say, with a sigh, u Oh for a miller in 
every church ! " 

A young grand-daughter, who was visiting him a few 
years since, answered several letters for him one day 
when he was indisposed. One of these was from a minis- 
ter in the state of New York, a perfect stranger to Mr. 
Dunbar, asking concerning some field of labor, he being 
about to leave the place where he then was. The reply 
returned was, as the writer tells us : " There are many 
places where good ministers are needed ; but you should 
be on the ground to know of them. Come to the city at 
once. I have now no home to ask you to ; but come 
where I am boarding, and I will introduce you to breth- 
ren here. Tell your good wife not to get disheartened ; 
and say from me that unless you are richer than your 
ministering brethren in general, you are to leave the 
purse and whatever is in it at home with her. Tell her 
from me that there is a bank in New York city, on 
which ministers of Christ can always draw in time of 
need ! " 

How many men, who have become poor for Christ's 
sake, will remember the sunshine which some such letter 
from his hand, or a like encouraging word from his lip, had 
brought to them in a dark and gloomy day ! He bore, as 
far as he knew them, the burdens of all these on his own 
heart, and so fulfilled the law of Christ. 

Mr. Dunbar felt a special interest in young ministers ; 
and while they shared, as many of them did, his unstinted 
hospitality, he spread before them the richer dainties of 
free, sovereign, distinguishing grace, the conversation 
often extending far into the night. 

" I find it very pleasant," writes one who was thus 
17* 



198 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

favored, u to recall those many talks with which he favored 
me, and in which his deep experience welled out so richly 
and instructively. No one that knew him could doubt 
that he was experimentally acquainted with Jesus, and 
lived in close communion with him. With what hallowed 
ardor would he extol the riches of free and sovereign grace ! 
There were points on which we did not agree ; but I al- 
ways admired the warmth of zeal for truth with which he 
sought to bring me up to the full measure of what he con- 
sidered orthodoxy. There was always an unction, charac- 
teristic of those talks, that refreshed like the dew of morn- 
ing, and made me greatly revere and love him. Religion 
was ever his favorite theme, and particularly experimental 
religion ; but to him the doctrinal was scarcely distinguish- 
able from the experimental, so thoroughly were the great 
truths of the gospel the aliment of his inner life and his in- 
spiration to action. That genial flow of humor, and that 
quaintness which provoked a smile every now and then, in 
his most religious discourses, whether in the parlor or in 
the pulpit, did not interfere with the moral impression, and 
was an attractive feature and kept alive the interest." 

Mr. Dunbar's views of doctrine, and his earnest zeal in 
their defence, appear in the following Annual Letter to the 
Association : — 



"Beloved Brethren in Christ, — When, in the 
providence of God, Baptist churches became sufficiently 
numerous in this western hemisphere to admit of their 
forming distinct associations, it was regarded as a matter 
of sacred importance, that each church uniting in such 
a social ecclesiastical compact should entertain and avow 
the same views of the character and government of 
God ; his sovereign, distinguishing grace in the redemption 



LETTER TO THE ASSOCIATION. 199 

and complete salvation of his chosen people ; the nature, 
design, and extent of the atonement of the Lord Jesus 
Christ ; the total depravity of human nature ; the invinci- 
ble operations of the Holy Spirit upon the souls of elect 
sinners ; and the certain glorification of the 4 church of God, 
which he hath purchased with his own blood.' In those 
days, care was taken to define, by printed associational 
articles of faith, the glorious fundamental doctrines of the 
word of God, and the holy tendency of those doctrines, 
when cordially believed and experimentally felt, to pro- 
mote the joy and hope of regenerated souls, and to produce 
the fruits of that holiness, without which no man shall see 
the Lord. Presuming, dear brethren, that Jehovah's re- 
vealed method of saving lost sinners, and the moral quali- 
ties of right and wrong in matters of faith and practice, 
could not change their character with the lapse of time, this 
church has, in its annual epistle to your respected body, 
for a succession of years, solemnly and affectionately ex- 
pressed a fear lest restless philosophical speculations, popu- 
lar, ever-changing religious theories, or a conformity to 
applauded customs, should tempt the churches of this Asso- 
ciation to depart from the truth of God, as revealed in the 
Holy Scriptures. In our letter to you, of 1837, we frankly 
stated the apprehension we then cherished, that a growing 
disrelish of Bible sentiments and Bible morality was mani- 
festing itself in certain portions of our beloved denomina- 
tion The faith once delivered to the saints is not 

considered by many of sufficient importance to be con- 
tended for or vindicated. The simple avowal of a few 
general articles of our Baptist faith is, in many places, a 
sufficient passport into the fellowship and sisterhood of 
associated churches. Other cardinal truths, involving the 
sovereignty and veracity of Jehovah, the covenanted sub- 



200 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

stitution and sacrifice of the blessed Redeemer, and the 
glory of his cross, may be embraced or repudiated at dis- 
cretion, without any breach of fellowship. And in regard 
to the obligation which, by the moral law of God, we owe 
to our fellow-creatures, we fear that the departure from 
Bible morality is no less alarming. For instance : the poor 
laborer may be robbed of his wages, his person and family 
subjected to unmitigated bondage and oppression, and his 
immortal mind forbidden to feed upon the precious pastures 
of divine revelation ; all these injuries may be tyrannically 
practised upon the humble, defenceless disciples of the mer- 
ciful Son of God, by members of the same church, and 
ministers of the gospel of peace ; and yet such members 
and ministers are regarded as proper objects of Chris- 
tian fellowship, sympathy, and respect ; while the tears and 
groans of their unhappy victims are unheeded, and those 
who plead their cause are viewed with suspicion and often 
treated with contempt. These, dear brethren, are some of the 
abuses, in principle and practice, now tolerated in our de- 
nomination, which justly grieve and alarm us, in view of 
the justice of Z ion's God, and the retributions of a judg- 
ment to come. 

" We desire, however, to unite with you in praying for 
the purity, the peace, and the prosperity of the churches 
of Christ, throughout our land and the world." 

In laboring for the purity of doctrine and practice of his 
church in New York, ever so dear to him, Mr. Dunbar 
relied much upon the cooperation of his deacons, among 
w r hom were men of great worth and solidity of judgment. 
One of them, Deacon J. J. Griffiths, writes as follows : — 

" Mr. Dunbar had the interests of this branch of Zion 
very near to his heart, as his frequent private and official 



BAPTIST NEWSPAPER. 201 

meetings with his deacons testify. He loved them, and re- 
lied on their judgment, and they depended very much on his 
advice and experience. They were all united in him, and 
during a period of ten years, at the frequent official inter- 
views when the interests of the church were spoken of, 
there was an entire unanimity of feeling and of action be- 
tween him and them." 

In reviewing Mr. Dunbar's ministry of nearly half a 
century, the genuine affection which always existed be- 
tween him and the churches he served is worthy of note. 
To three of these he was called three times, and by all 
was ever welcomed as a beloved friend and minister of 
Christ. 

Mr. Dunbar's zeal for the defence and spread of God's 
truth in its purity and fulness, and his desire for the prog- 
ress of his own denomination, led him, soon after going 
to New York, to encourage the commencement of a 
weekly newspaper, which he himself edited gratuitously, 
— " The Baptist Repository," published by Mr. E. Tripp. 
It has since passed through many hands, and borne many 
names, the New York Baptists having never from that 
time been without a denominational paper. 

To what has been said of Mr. Dunbar as a minister of 
Christ, it should be added that he was deeply interested 
in the extension of evangelical truth in the world. He 
was an early and a fast friend of the American and For- 
eign Bible Society, and was for many years a member of 
its board of managers. 

He was an active and liberal supporter of Foreign Mis- 
sions, and deeply interested in the work of the Missionary 
Union. His anti-slavery spirit had been sorely tried, dur- 
ing the days of the Triennial Convention, by the union 
of Northern and Southern churches, but he hoped the day 



202 DUNCAN DUNBAR, 

of separation would come ; and none rejoiced more than 
he in the triumph of principle over policy, in the forma- 
tion of the American Baptist Missionary Union, — a free 
organization for the spread of a free gospel. 

When the debt of $36,000 lay as a heavy burden upon 
the Union, his heart was distressed at the crippled influ- 
ence of the society, and the dishonor cast on God ; and it 
was at his suggestion that the plan was adopted which 
proved so successful in the liquidation of the debt. 

One morning, early in February, 1859, the correspond- 
ing secretary of the Union, being then in New York, 
called at Mr. Dunbar's house ; after the usual courtesies, 
Mr. Dunbar said to him, " Doctor, I'm a little surprised 
to see you this morning, for I've been lying awake nearly 
all night thinking of you and the Union and the mission- 
ary debt, and I believe I've got hold of a plan that will 
pay it." 

He then went on to say, that after his family had 
retired to rest, the night before, he had taken up Dr. 
YTayland's Missionary Sermon and read it through, not 
finishing it until long after midnight. It made such an 
impression on his mind that he could not sleep. " The 
debt," he said, " seemed such a small thing to press upon 
all the Baptist communicants in the Northern States, that I 
felt ashamed of it, and lay trying to devise some plan by 
which it might be swept off. A small fraction from each 
church-member would do it ; but suppose we get thirty-six 
thousand individuals to give one dollar each, the work is 
done ! If there are any in our number too poor to do that, 
their richer brethren will make it up." 

The plan struck the secretary favorably, and he prom- 
ised to suggest it to the Board. But Mr. Dunbar, always 
fearful of " red-tape " delays, and now impatient for a trial 



FOREIGN MISSIONS. 20o 

and a result, demurred a little, saying, " The Board will 
think well of it, I know ; so I shall give the first instal- 
ment," and drawing out that inexhaustible green purse, he 
placed in the secretary's hand a gold dollar each for him- 
self and Mrs. Dunbar and the two children at home 
with him, calling on a daughter who was then on a 
visit, to do the same, and pledging — as he always dared 
to do — the McDougal Street Church for her share in the 
good work. 

The secretary returned to Boston, presented the plan, 
which was adopted, and then issued circulars to the above 
effect. The dollars flew in rapidly, — the simplicity of the 
thing at once making it a " people's movement." It be- 
came to Baptists " our debt," and not the debt of a few 
rich men who might get rid of it as best they could. 1 
Mr. Dunbar's own people gave far more than each man 
his dollar, and their pastor crowned the sacrifice by laying 



1 We insert the following letter from the secretary to Mr. Dunbar, written 
a short time after the plan was put into operation : — 

" Missionary Rooms, Boston, March 28, 1859. 

" My dear Brother, — I came to the Rooms this morning, after the la- 
bors of the Sabbath, not a little exhausted and careworn. But your letter, 
so full of good things, has renewed my spirit and strengthened my heart for 
the battle. As I read on, I said, this is too good to be. true ; the Lord is an- 
swering before we called upon him, and crowning our labors before we 
put forth effort. To his name be the praise. 

" From all quarters there come expressions of approval of the plan, and 
a readiness to take hold and carry it into effect. I may be too sanguine, 
but I believe that we shall succeed, with God's blessing, and find thirty-six 
thousand persons who will give their dollar each for so desirable an object. 

" I think you need have no misgivings on the score of being made too 
prominent. Talk the thing up with the pastors, and tell me of your suc- 
cess." 



204 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

twenty-five dollars from his own purse, in addition to all 
he had already done, as the last on the altar. The 
result is known. In the words of the secretary, " The 
Union was freed from an incubus which had crippled its 
energies for the last fifteen years." 

Nor was Mr. Dunbar's interest confined to foreign mis- 
sions. The heathen of our own land had a large share in 
his pity and his prayers. 

From the time that he first saw the red men, he never 
lost his interest in them. For the Mic Macs of New 
Brunswick and the Penobscots of Maine he labored per- 
sonally ; and, in after years, interested himself greatly for 
the Cherokees and other tribes under the patronage of our 
Missionary Union. The name, Indian, was a passport to 
his heart, and the sorrows and oppressions of this people 
were to him a source of real grief and anxiety ; for he 
believed that, with regard to them, as well as to the negro, 
God would call us to account. Many will remember when 
Rev. Evan Jones brought Oganaya to New York, in the 
year 1835, how he took him by the hand, seeking not only 
to benefit, but also to gratify him. At his suggestion, the 
young men of McDougal Street Church presented him 
with a watch, as they did also to more than one other In- 
dian visitor. The ladies, also, sent many presents to his 
wife and family, while a kind friend painted his miniature, 
which was a matter of great surprise and delight to him, he 
never having seen such a thing before. And these same 
acts were repeated again and again for strangers of the 
same class. Mr. Dunbar often said that a man always 
thought more of himself if he had a good watch ! 

About twenty-five years ago he met, — in the street, w£ 
believe, — Andrew Meaux, chief of the Mic Macs, and his 
wife. They were in deep poverty and distress, and wan- 



INTEREST IN THE RED MEN. 205 

dering helplessly in the great, strange city. An unprinci- 
pled man had induced the poor creatures, by fair promises, 
to accompany him to England and exhibit themselves in 
dances and war-whoops, as new to them, probably, as 
they were to the English. They did so ; and hardly had 
they ornamented themselves in blankets and moccasons, 
feathers and beads, than they were prostrated with small- 
pox. The hope of his gain now being gone, the heartless 
wretch forsook them. Amid strangers, and in the very 
deepest poverty, their two children died, causing them as 
much anguish as a like affliction would do wiser parents 
anywhere. A few merciful men, hearing of their sad con- 
dition, sent them to New York, where they landed without 
means to reacli their tribe. God guided them to Mr. 
Dunbar, and he accepted the charge. Every provision 
was made for their comfort ; but the poor mother's heart 
was full of her children, and she wept when she spoke of 
them. 

While they were in the city, Mr. Seton had a little 
gathering of the Sunday-school children, for their benefit, 
at which were sung hymns and songs written by him for 
the occasion. One of these is well remembered by those 
who joined in its notes when children, beginning, — 

" Chief Andrew Meaux." 

Money was raised to take the strangers home and to 
supply them with numberless comforts. Their voyage had 
been a most painful and unprofitable one ; but the sympathy 
and benevolence they received in the McDougal Street 
Church did much to soothe their disappointment. Nor were 
their spiritual wants forgotten. Mr. Dunbar, and others 
interested in them, strove to instruct them, and to lead their 
troubled minds to the compassionate Saviour. It was, 

18 



206 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

after all, the soul preeminently which Mr. Dunbar sought 
to benefit ; and often did he use the good things of this 
life as means whereby to gain the heart of the sufferer, and 
thus lead him from the trials of life to the peace and joy 
found only in Christ. 

We find a copy of a hymn, which he used often to 
sing, and sometimes to repeat, when pleading for the red 
men. We do not know its author, but insert it here as 
another plea for a race which will soon be no more : — 



'THE INDIAN'S APPEAL TO AMERICAN CHRISTIANS. 

" I dwell with the tempest, I'm rock'd by the storm ; 
No pillow of luxury come I to crave : 
Sole lord of the brute, in whose furs I am warm, — 
Yet pity the red man, ye sons of the wave. 

" Ere the wide-spreading ocean, now rolling so blue, 
Your forefathers bore from afar to our shore, 
These forests comprised all of pleasure we knew ; 
Then pity the red man, thus happy no more ! 

" Ye dwell at the fountains of mental delight, 
Where streams intellectual deliriously roll ; 
And when the rich banquets so freely invite, 
Oh, pity the red man — he, too, has a soul ! 

"Oh, teacli him the name to Christians so dear, — 
Your passport to mansions of glory on high ; 
That name which supports you, in death, without fear, 
Declare to the red man, and teach him to — die." 




CHAPTER XXI. 

Wise to Win Souls — Preaching at the Gaming Table — The Children's Minister — Sym- 
pathy with the Little Ones — Playfulness — Incidents — Extracts from Letters. 

ilTH Mr. Dunbar the ministry of the gospel was 
not viewed as a mere " profession." It w^as in 
his heart to serve Christ and his fellow-creatures, 
not only on the Sabbath, or in the pulpit, but dur- 
ing the week, whether among his own people or 
among strangers. By the wayside, at a casual 
visit, in the cars, or on shipboard, he was ever the min- 
ister of Christ ; careless of the set conventionalities of 
office, and ready to do a kind deed, to speak a sympathiz- 
ing, instructive, or warning word, as the occasion sug- 
gested ; and especially solicitous, in all his intercourse 
with his fellow-men, to lead them to the Saviour. 

He had a rare and happy way of giving a religious turn 
to conversation. The recital of some striking incident in 
his own life would often lead the minds of his listeners to 
themes far different from what they had anticipated at the 
outset, and which were calculated to make deep religious 
impressions. 

Once, when going up the North River, a sudden shower, 
about sunset, drove all the passengers from the deck into 
the cabin. Here they surprised a party of gamblers round 
a centre-table, whither they had drawn two or three un- 
wary youths. After a little pause at this interruption, 
they went on shuffling their cards, " when," says one who 

(207) 



208 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

was present, " a gentleman rose and went up to them. He 
looked on as if with interest in the game ; and soon one 
of the number offered him a seat, saying, 6 Will you try a 
hand with us, sir ? ' 

" ' No,' replied the gentleman, who I then learned was 
Mr. Dunbar ; c I do not know the name of a card. When 
I was young, I had a great many games which 1 enjoyed 
as much as you do yours, and I now love to see all young 
men happy.' He then told them of his early life in the 
Highlands of Scotland, with its wild sports and its hair- 
breadth escapes, until quite a group, besides the card- 
players, had gathered round him. The young men ceased 
playing, and gave him all their attention. Soon he spoke 
of a time when he grew sick of these pleasures, and was 
dissatisfied with himself; when he felt that he was at enmity 
with God, and that unless converted and reconciled to him, 
he must be eternally lost. He told them of the despair into 
which he fell, and of his ' fearful looking-for of judgment,' 
and then of the manner in which Christ revealed himself as 
the Way of Life, and of the change this made in all his 
prospects and pursuits for this world. 

" By this time the cards had all been slipped into the 
pockets of the owners, while the man of God, having 
gained their ear, preached Christ to them. Even those 
who, under other circumstances, would have scoffed, now 
listened with interest and attention, and all treated him 
with the greatest respect. But had he felt that he did well 
to be angry at sight of sin, and harshly rebuked the game- 
sters, threatening to expose them, he could not have held 
them a moment to listen to the story of Calvary. Thus 
was he ever wise to win souls. The stand he thus 
firmly and decidedly took, commended itself to the Chris- 
tians present there. They all gathered round him, like a 



THE CHILDREN'S MINISTER. '209 

family, to talk of home and common interests. And 
while the storm raged without, they enjoyed a blessed sea- 
son, speaking of the glories of Him they loved, and singing 
songs of praise to his name. 

" His brave advocacy of his Master's claims gave him an 
opportunity to do good to many who never went to the 
house of God. Eternity will reveal the result of that 
evening's labor. Thus was he ever sowing beside all 
waters." 

It may readily be inferred that Mr. Dunbar excelled as 
a pastor. His genial disposition, his ardent piety, his 
great experience in " cases of conscience," eminently fitted 
him for this part of ministerial labor. In this work he 
was unwearied, not only in his own congregation, but in 
the wider circle of the needy, neglected, and sorrowful, 
especially in New York. Many such made great lamen- 
tation over him at his burial, for they had lost a friend 
indeed. 

In that important, but difficult and much-neglected part 
of a pastor's work, ministering to the children, Mr. Dun- 
bar was very successful. They loved him, for he sympa- 
thized with them in their little joys and trials, and ever 
had for them a pleasant and instructive word, and often 
gave them little tokens of his affection. By his gentle and 
winning ways he was instrumental in leading many of 
these lambs to the " Good Shepherd." 

He always interested himself in the innocent pleasures 
of the young, and was ever devising plans for their profit 
and amusement. His kind smile and cheerful tones have 
left impressions, never to be effaced, on hundreds of little 
hearts. 

A lady, who was much with his children in her youth, 
says, " I well remember the charm he had for the young. 

18* 



210 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

Whenever we were planning a visit to his house, we chose 
an evening when he would be at home, that our pleasure 
might be enhanced by his company.'' 

One of Mr. Dunbar's deacons, who frequently went 
with him in his visits of mercy, says he noticed in him 
traits of character very uncommon even among the 
benevolent. More than once he has gone with him to 
the home of poverty and sickness ; and, if little children 
were passing their time wearily in the sick-room, which, 
perhaps, was their only one, or if they were disturbing 
the sufferer by their noise, Mr. Dunbar would leave him 
a few moments to converse or pray, and, after a short ab- 
sence, return with toys for the little ones, that they might 
be amused and quieted. Nothing pleased him more than 
to be smiled on or spoken to in the street by children 
whose names he had to ask. 

A little grandson of four or five years, noticing that a 
brother and three cousins were named " Duncan Dunbar," 
came to his mother one day, saying he wanted his name 
changed. When asked what he wished to be called, he 
replied innocently, " I want to be named ' Grandpa Dun- 
bar,' too." He felt that an honor was being unjustly kept 
from him. 

H. L. W., a dear little boy in the family, whom his 
grandfather loved very much, spoke of him, after his 
death, as a very rich man. When told that he was not 
rich at all, he expressed great surprise, saying, " Why, he 
always had his pockets full of pretty things for little chil- 
dren." 

When, a few years ago, Mr. Dunbar's portrait, painted 
by Verbryck, was placed in a window of the store where 
it had been framed, a friend of the family, passing by, 
and not knowing it was there, saw a group of children 



INCIDENTS. 211 

gathered around the place, and heard little voices joyfully 
exclaiming, " Oh, that's Mr. Dunbar, that's Mr. Dun- 
bar ! " proving both the success of the artist and the love 
of the children. 

Gifts of the children to himself always went by their 
names. He spoke of " the little Smith's dressing-case," 
" little Georgie's snuff-box," — the silver one he carried 
with him to the last, — "little Willie's porte-monnaie," 
&c. Amid all the confusion and sight-seeing of his last 
visit to Europe, he did not forget the dear boys at home, 

— who were gathering stamps and coins, — but sought 
eagerly for rare specimens to grace their collections. 

He thus closes a letter to a member of his church, 
absent with her family for the summer : — 

" And to the two dear little members of my congrega- 
tion, the princess and the duchess, give my warmest love. 
When are their dear little hands going to write me that epis- 
tle, promised last winter ? When shall I hear that their 
dear little hearts are beating with love to the blessed Sav- 
iour, the Lord Jesus Christ ? When will they ask and 
urge me to baptize them in his name ? " 

When the excellent carte-de-visite of Mr. Dunbar was 
shown to one of his little grandsons, only four years old, he 
at once recognized it, although he had not seen the original 
for many months. " That's my dear grandpa," he said, 
" with his cane in his hand." The spectacles in the other 
hand being very indistinct, some one asked him what they 
were. " Oh," he said, " that's a stick of white candy for 
little children ! " 

A nook in his desk was always supplied with penknives, 
scissors, marbles, picture-books, and china dogs and cats, 

— a little store, on which to draw for the benefit of his 
juvenile friends. Sometimes, wdien asked, " Where did 



212 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

yon buy that ? " he would smile, and say, " Of a poor 
Jew, a son of Abraham, standing on the corner of the 
street. He said he had sold nothing this morning ; so I 
bought these, and told him other customers would follow 
me. Poor Jew ! You know the blessed Saviour was a 
Jew." No nation, no color, no religion, however false, 
kept a fellow-creature outside the pale of his sympathy. 

In a letter to one of his married daughters, Mr. 
Dunbar says, playfully : " What shall I send the chil- 
dren, in the shape of playthings for New Year's? You 
know that children are children, the world over. I love 
to make them happy, especially when it can be done at so 
cheap a rate. The value of a present never enters their 
heads or hearts — but the color, the shape, and the oddity. 
If one manages aright, he can make many of them hap- 
py with a single dollar. Have they a stock of cats, dogs, 
and lambs ? Let me know. If you begin to think that 
grandpa is becoming a child himself, never you mind! 
The children and I understand one another, and that's 
enough ! " 

In a more serious strain, he writes to a beloved grand- 
daughter : — 

a My dear, good C, — I received your nice, modest little 
letter, and I thank you for it. Your mother says you are a 
good girl, and grandpa believes that and more too ! I believe 
you are a monument of God's mercy and grace," and that, 
long after I am dead and gone to my rest, you will be in 
a position to exert an influence in favor of the cause of 
the Lord Jes-us Christ in the world. 

" It is very late at night, and I am much exhausted with 
the heat, and the weariness of my evening lecture ; so, 
hoping you will excuse my short epistle, I must close with 



INCIDENTS. 213 

love ; — much love to your father, mother, and the dear 
boys. Your affectionate grandfather." 

Mr. Dunbar was very careful to promote a family feel- 
ing among the members of the church. At the close of 
the weekly lectures and prayer-meetings, he would come 
down from the desk and greet the brethren with a grasp 
of the hand and kind words, encouraging them by his own 
genial example to interchange these tokens of affection 
among themselves. He wished them to regard each other 
as members of a family, and to feel an interest in whatever 
related to their mutual welfare. His quick eye detected 
a new face in the congregation, and he sought to awaken 
a home-feeling in the heart of the stranger. Sometimes, 
when introducing a new member, he would say, " This is 

brother , from the church in . He has come 

among us, and you must welcome him, and do him all the 
good you can. He builds houses, or, he keeps a store. 
When you want anything in his line, go and encourage 
him. ' Do good to all men, but especially to them who are 
of the household of faith ! ' " Hundreds, we are sure, now 
in comfortable circumstances, can look back to such words 
as these for their first success. Thus was he truly a pas- 
tor to the flock, in temporal as well as in spiritual things. 

Not only did he pay special regard to strangers him- 
self, but he encouraged and urged his brethren to do 
so, both in their homes and in the sanctuary, and thus 
have many been brought into the fold of Christ. One of 
the brethren relates the following remarkable incident : — 

" A man who was perfectly regardless of religion, and 
not even an attendant on the means of grace, dreamed one 
night that a person appeared to him and said, c Go to Mr. 
Dunbar's church.' On awakening, he remembered hav- 



214 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

ing heard of a minister of that name, and resolved that some- 
time he would go to hear him. Accordingly, one Wednes- 
day evening, he went into the vestry and heard the lect- 
ure without the least feeling. 

" When the meeting was over, a good brother who had 
noticed the stranger, stepped up to him, gave him his 
hand, and welcomed him there. He also invited him to 
come again. This little courtesy, it seems, gratified him 
so much, that on going out lie resolved to accept the 
invitation. He came again, and then God met him. His 
attention was arrested, and ere long he was brought to 
Christ, and baptized into that church. 

" A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures 
of silver." 

Mr. Dunbar did much to promote the happiness of oth- 
ers, not only by acts of kindness toward the needy and 
afflicted, but by the habitual sunshine of his genial dispo- 
sition. There was about him a playfulness and humor, 
never inconsistent with true Christian dignity, which made 
his presence a pleasure in all circles. 

One day the mother of a beloved member of his church 
came over the ferry from Hoboken, to call on his family. 
She was urged to remain to tea, Mr. Dunbar telling her 
that he would send word to her son's counting-room that 
she was there, and he would come and take her safely 
home. She consented, and he sent a messenger to the 
Iron Works to say that a lady who knew Mr. N., 
and was greatly interested in him when a boy, was 
at his house, and wished to see him ; and that he must 
remain to tea. 

With all speed, Mr. N. dropped his pen, and went down, 
only to be excused, as he did not feel himself exactly pre- 
sentable, coming as he had from his counting-room, where 



INCIDENTS. 215 

the dust was flying about. This he said at the door, to 
Mr. Dunbar, who, however, would take no excuse, but 
insisted upon his coming in. 

" But," asked Mr. N., " who is this lady ? " 

u I can't tell you," he replied, " for I want to see if you 
will know her now ; you knew her well when you were a 
boy." 

" Well," said Mr. N., u I will go home first, and I prom- 
ise you I will return in time for tea." 

But no ; Mr. Dunbar assured him he could not let him 
off, and that he was quite well prepared to meet the lady. 
So, greatly against his wishes, Mr. N.,was ushered into 

the parlor to be introduced to his mother ! to the no 

small amusement of all who had seen his first embarrass- 
ment. 

It was the practice of Mr. Dunbar, when union prayer- 
meetings were held at the McDougal Street Church, to 
invite those from a distance, home to tea with him, that 
they might be near for the evening service. 

On one of these occasions he had filled his parlors to 
his heart's content, when a lady called at the door, asking 
for Mr. Dunbar. She had known him when a child, and 
having now come to New York, felt a desire to see him. 
When presented to him, she looked a little confused, and 
said, u This is not the Mr. Dunbar I asked for ; it is the 
old gentleman I wish to see, — your father, I suppose." 

His wonderfully youthful figure and face were often 
the subject of remark, and Mr. D. saw at once that his 
guest had been expecting to see a bowed and gray-haired 
grandsire. 

" Oh, yes," he said, giving her the hand of cordial 
welcome, " you shall see him. Go with my daughter, and 



216 DUNCAN DUNBAE. 

lay off your things, and when you come back the old gen- 
tleman will be here." 

After some little time, no old gentleman appearing, she 
ventured to ask for him again. Mr. Dunbar then said 
playfully, " Have a little patience till we go down to tea, 
and you will find the old gentleman at the table." 

When the company took their seats in the dining-room, 
the stranger looked around ; but seeing no venerable face, 
asked for him again, when Mr. Dunbar himself was pre- 
sented to her as the veritable man she sought. She, remem- 
bering him as the father of a family when she was a little 
child in Bermuda, had expected now to meet an old man 
tottering on the verge of the grave. When, however, 
she became satisfied that the hale, vigorous, and active 
pastor was he who more than forty years ago seemed 
to her a man in middle life, she was amazed, and won- 
dered what charm it was that thus defied the power of 
time. 

Once, when going up the Hudson, with one of his daugh- 
ters, a lady asked her, on deck, if she would take the chair 
next her husband, and give her the one she then oc- 
cupied. 

The daughter made the exchange, and said, " She 
thinks you very young, father." " Oh, no, my dear," 
he replied ; " she probably thinks me an old fool with a 
young wife." 

To a young lady of his congregation, when absent, he 
wrote among other items of news : — 

" Since this was commenced, I have been down to the 
church, in the face of a dreadful rain-storm, to marry 
Mr. to Mrs. ; and, would you believe it ? piti- 
less and pelting as were the rain and lightning, the body 



INCIDENTS. 217 

of the house was full. Saint and sinner were there, 
gray hairs and infancy, vying with each other in pro- 
found eagerness to see the bride. May the Lord help and 
reform poor human nature ! Had this been a meeting, 
appointed and extensively noticed, for the purpose of call- 
ing on God for pardon and eternal life, how many think 
you would have ventured from their sheltered homes on 
such a night ? " 

To a daughter, visiting in New England, he wrote : — 
" I cannot be so cruel as to urge your sudden return 
home if you are enjoying yourself; but for those ever- 
lasting ' societies ' and ' picnics,' let them go to Jericho ! 
Jam sick of them ! 'Fools make feasts, and wise men 
eat of them.' It is a drudgery which the Yankee ladies 
love to impose on themselves, and in which they pay 
dearly for the pleasure of killing themselves." 

19 




CHAPTER XXII. 

Changing Enemies to Friends — An Opposing Husband Won — An Angry Visitor Con- 
verted — Making Peace — Comforting the Aged and Lonely — Regard for the Sensi- 
bility of the Poor — God's End of the Purse. 

)R. DUNBAR was remarkable for his power of 
conciliation, and for adapting himself to the char- 
acter and circumstances of those with whom he 
came in contact. 

If ever, in his jealousy for God's honor, he 
seemed to make an enemy, he sooner or later changed 
him to a friend. Many who left him in the times of trial 
in the church, came back, renewing the bonds they had 
broken. 

In want, sorrow, sickness, or perplexity, they sought in 
vain for another heart or hand like his. Many of these re- 
turned to the dear old fold to die within its enclosure. Manv, 
who had gone to other churches, sent Tor him when dying, 
and desired that his voice might be the last heard above 
their sleeping dust ; and not a few, who, differing widely 
from him in views of discipline, had imagined their affections 
weaned from him, were among the truest mourners over his 
dear remains, beneath the pulpit where so long he had 
called sinners to repentance, and confirmed and comforted 
the saints. 

His power was equall} 7 strong in overcoming the oppo- 
sition of the unconverted. At one time a lady, who had 
not been a church-goer, became deeply concerned for her 

(218) 



AN OPPOSING HUSBAND WON. 219 

soul, and imagined that she was losing her mind. A 
friend advised her to consult the minister in McDougal 
Street, which she did , and very soon she found peace, and 
then desired above all things a place among God's people. 
But when she broached the subject to her husband, he 
thought she was beside herself. The Baptists were a 
people he had only heard of ; and the idea of his wife be- 
ing immersed in the Hudson river, before a crowd of 
curious people, was not to be for a moment entertained. 
She heard the voice of her newly-found Saviour, saying, 
" This is the way, walk ye in it ; " but across the path 
of duty stood one to whom she, as a wife, felt bound to 
submit herself. When she came to Mr. Dunbar with 
this new grief, he said calmly, " Leave that with me. I will 
make that right with your husband." He sought him in 
his place of business ; found him reading his morning pa- 
per, and was received most graciously as a stranger. 
When, however, he announced his name, a little restless- 
ness was seen under the effort politeness made to hide it. 
He, not appearing to notice this, said, u I presume, sir, 

you are aware that Mrs. has been again and again 

to my house and my church." 

u Oh, yes, yes." 

" And she has, of course, told vou the great change 
which has taken place in her feelings with regard to her 
state before God ? " 

" Oh, yes ; but it wont last, sir ; it will all pass away 
when the excitement is over." 

u But she believes siie has been born again, and that old 
things have passed away with her, and all things become 
new." 

"But my wife is \ery fond of gayety," persisted the 
gentleman ; " and it will not be three months before she is 



220 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

again in the ball-room. I don't want her to join the 
church and be a hypocrite ! " 

"Well, my friend," said Mr. Dunbar, kindly, " you 
can safely leave this with her own conscience before God. 
She feels it a duty laid upon her to honor her Saviour by 
a public profession, and I am sure you, who have always 
been a kind and indulgent husband, will not tyrannize over 
her in this solemn matter." 

" By no means," replied the gentleman, blandly. " I 
have never been a tyrant in my family ; and if she is re- 
solved on this, I will not interfere, although it certainly 
seems to me a very foolish step." 

The lady was baptized, and lived long years to prove 
that the change which drew her from the gay world 
into the fold of God, was a real one ; and after a painful 
sickness, of long duration, her husband saw her die in the 
triumphs of the faith which she professed. 

And in scores of such cases, Mr. Dunbar won, by his 
genial manner and kind words, the free consent of oppos- 
ing husbands and fathers for those wishing to unite with 
God's people. 

A young lady called on him one day, in no lovely mood 
for a stranger. She announced, with not a little spirit, that 

her mother had been a member of the church, but was 

recently excluded. She extolled her as a pattern of virtue 
and piety, and denounced the church in scathing terms ; 
adding, that, " she had come to him as one of the oldest 
pastors, to ask if that was the way Baptist churches 
always treated their members who chanced to differ from 
them ; if so, she had had enough of them." 

Without appearing to notice the tone of sarcasm, or the 
flashing of anger, Mr. Dunbar said he could not decide on 



ANGRY VISITOR CONVERTED. 221 

the right or the wrong of the case, because he knew none 
of the particulars. She then went on to say, that, "in a 
matter of discipline, her mother had taken very decided 
ground against the church, and not yielding to the major- 
ity, had kept agitating the subject until they withdrew the 
hand of fellowship from her," probably for an unwarrant- 
able use of her tongue. 

Mr. Dunbar gave the young stranger all credit for her 
affection, and her regard for her mother's honor. He 
talked to her in the kindest and most fatherly manner, and 
when she rose to go, took her hand, saying, " You came 
to me to-day, my young friend, grieved and anxious for 
the reputation of your mother ; I hope the next time you 
come, it will be with anguish for your own soul ; that, see- 
ing yourself lost and condemned, by reason of sin, you will 
come, to ask, ' What shall I do to be saved ? ' Your own 
state before God should outweigh all other thoughts 
and interests." And w T ith a most solemn charge to seek 
her own souPs salvation, he dismissed her in a mood sof- 
tened toward him, however much she might have felt in- 
censed against his denomination. 

A week or two passed, and again she came to him ; but 
this time it was under a burden of guilt her proud spirit 
could no longer bear. His last words, on the former visit, 
had been as arrows to her heart, and from the hour they 
were spoken, she had had no rest. In the same merciful 
spirit he led her to Christ, as the great burden-bearer. 
After a little time, she found peace in believing, and was 
baptized into his church. 

While so anxious and active for the well-doino; of the 
young under his influence, Mr. Dunbar, remembering the 
folly of his own youth, was very lenient towards those who 

19* 



222 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

erred through temptation or thoughtlessness, never forget- 
ting, that, 

" To step aside is huiran." 

Being on a journey at one time, he stopped on his way 
to visit a family once attendants on his church, and whose 
children were dear among the lambs of his fold. He found 
them in great affliction. One of their young daughters, 
on whom many fond hopes were centred, had eloped from 
her home with a play-actor, to whom they learned she 
was married. The mother and sisters were heart-broken, 
trembling for the frail foundation on which her happiness 
was built ; but the father, feeling that his authority was 
also set at nought, wa s indignant at her course. Mr. Dun- 
bar had come just in time to act as peace-maker between 
the injured parents and the erring child. She had sent 
home for permission to visit them, and, this being refused, 
had asked for her wardrobe. Her father felt that she had 
forfeited all claim on her family, and allowed no response 
to be made to this request ; and there the matter was 
resting. 

Mi*. Dunbar, while he justly censured the giddy girl, 
remembered that she was little more than an impulsive 
child, and that if she had thrown away her happiness, she 
was to be pitied as well as blamed ; and he encouraged her 
friends, by representing the case as far from a hopeless 
one. " Who can tell," he asked, " but by judicious treat- 
ment now, she may see her ingratitude, and her husband 
be drawn into some nobler path, where he may yet be an 
honor to the family ? " He volunteered to make peace 
between them. He visited them at their hotel, and found 
the wayward child, although not sorry for her choice, 
penitent that she had so deceived her parents. The young 



COMFORTING THE LONELY. 223 

actor, who, we believe, was honorable and upright beyond 
his class, excused his course only on the ground that it was 
his sole hope of securing the child of such parents. He 
made all the apologies and pledges required, listened at- 
tentively and respectfully to Mr. Dunbar's advice, and 
promised to follow it. Thus reconciliation w T as effected. 
Ere long, permission was given to the daughter to visit 
her parents, and when the wound w r as a little healed, she 
was received back as an erring child. 

Of all classes of mourners, widows had an especial place 
in his sympathies. The very word, " widow," had talis- 
manic power to open his heart, and, when there w r as need 
of it, his purse also. There were tw r o or three of this class 
in the " Old Ladies' Home," in whom he was much in- 
terested from having known them before their going there. 
One of them, on the first Sabbath morning she spent at the 
Home, w r as greatly cast down ; and, although there w r as to 
be preaching in the chapel, felt that she could not leave her 
room. She gave vent to her murmurings, saying, " Here 
I am, in my old age, separated by death from my beloved 
children and my affectionate husband, far from the friends 
I love, and from my church-privileges." Her soul w^as in 
great heaviness. She resolved, however, to go to the ser- 
vice. But when she took her seat, she could not help 
weeping over her mournful lot. But soon, to her joy, 
Mr. Dunbar entered the desk ! He gave out as his text, 
u The Lord hath utterly separated me from his people." 
u Ah," he said, " each poor, lonely heart here cries, ' that 
is for me. I had just been saying those words, as I re- 
membered the days gone by, when I walked with my hus- 
band and children to the house of God. But they are 
gone, and I am shut out even from the communion of the 
saints, among whom my lot was cast, — my pastor, the dea- 



224 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

cons, and the brethren ; I am comparatively alone, few left 
to care whether I live or die.' These were your thoughts," 
said he, " and I do not wonder at them. I have come 
this morning to bring you a message from the Comforter, 
my sisters." And his words were like healing balm to all 
those poor, w^ounded hearts, as he drew their minds from 
the sorrows of age and loneliness in the wilderness up to 
that home where they should so soon meet the Saviour and 
the ransomed ones who had gone before them. 

Another of these widows, Mrs. J., a lady by birth and 
education, had a large place in his kind heart. He met 
her first soon after his removal to New York, under cir- 
cumstances, to her, of great trial and humiliation, and re- 
ceived her into his own home, where so many sorrowful 
ones before and since found a refuge. Here she was 
converted and was baptized into the fellowship of Mc- 
Dougal Street Church. She remained with Mrs. Dunbar 
until her desire for usefulness was gratified, and she went 
where her services were fully appreciated. Her humility 
and piety made her a blessing wherever her lot was cast ; 
but wdien the infirmities of age began to gather upon her, 
she chose this quiet resting-place, as she had neither chil- 
dren nor home. We find many beautiful letters express- 
ing her gratitude and affection. Mr. Dunbar often went 
to " the Home" to cheer her and others with the bright 
prospect beyond the dark river. He has passed over be- 
fore them, and is now enjoying the rest for which they 
are lono-ino;. 

About six years ago, several cases came to his knowl- 
edge, of persons who had hitherto been in good circum- 
stances, suffering for the time from w r ant of employment 
or from the expenses of sickness. At a communion sea- 
son he mentioned this, saying, u There is a fund in the 



god's end of the purse. 225 

hands of your deacons, dear brethren, for the benefit of 
several aged sisters who have long been cared for by you 
and who have a perfect claim on you as the Lord's poor. 
It is a matter of course with them, as they never expect 
again to earn their bread, and have none but you on 
whom they can rely. But there are those among your 
members that you little dream of, who, for certain reasons, 
are passing under a cloud in their temporal matters. 
They do not care to come before you as applicants for 
aid ; but a little private help, just for the time, would 
comfort them greatly. I wish you would make me your 
steward in this matter, and trust me with a little fund of 
my own, to be given at my discretion. It will make me 
feel very rich-, and you will never be any poorer." 

After the service, many gathered round him and put 
into his hands three, five, and ten dollars, as they felt 
able. When he returned home, he showed his long 
purse, saying, "That end belongs to the Lord." One of 
his daughters, who was at home on a visit, remembers his 
speaking of the cases he meant to relieve, saying, u You 
would all be surprised if I told you where I am going to 
send a ton of coal to-morrow." But none, save Mrs. 
Dunbar, did ever know where the contents of that end of 
the purse went ; but we know it was never empty. Thus 
he sought ever to save the feelings of the needy, and to 
keep up their self-respect. 




CHAPTER XXIII. 

Letters of Sympathy, Condolence and Friendship, to Mrs. Charles S. Stewart — To Dea- 
con and Mrs. Dexter — To Mrs. D. —Letter Acknowledging a Present — To Rev. Dr. 
Kennard. 



MONG Mr. Dunbar's letters of friendship, illus- 

rating also his pastoral character, are several to 

that beloved and now sainted woman, Mrs. 

Charles S. Stewart. The following was addressed 

to her while she was attending the sick-bed of her 

only brother, then in Washington : — 

" My dear Madam, — Most sincerely do I regret the 
distressing providence which has, for the present, placed 
you beyond a personal participation in that sympathy, 
which unfeigned gratitude, as well as duty, dictates on my 
part. 

"But, dear Mrs. S., ; It is the Lord; let him do as 
seemeth him good.' I know that in view of all the vicis- 
situdes through which a wise and gracious God has called 
you to pass within the last few years, you may exclaim, 
' I am the tvoman that hath seen affliction.' Nevertheless, 
it still remains a faithful promise, ; Whom the Lord lov- 
eth, he correcteth ; therefore despise not thou the chasten- 
ing of the Lord, neither faint when thou art rebuked of 
him.' 

" I know the sensibility of your heart. I have seen it 
exemplified on more than one mournful occasion. I have 
also seen that as thy day, so thy strength has been. The 

(226) 



LETTER OF SYMPATHY. 227 

God of Jacob has been your refuge in seasons of afflic- 
tion and sorrow heretofore ; and depend upon it, dear 
madam, he will not at this time leave you comfortless. 

" I cannot believe that this sickness is unto death ; but 
that the Son of God may be glorified thereby. Oh that 
God would graciously answer my poor petitions that his 
soul may live, and that his life may be prolonged ! You 
cannot conceive how I have felt for the last few days 
about him. I cannot banish from my mind the hope that 
dear Mr. S. will yet sing among the disciples of Christ as 
poor Newton did : — 

'Next door to death he found me, 
And snatched me from the grave 
To tell to all around me 
His wondrous power to save/ 

" I trust the Saviour is choosing him in the furnace of 
affliction, and that he will soon exclaim, with the King of 
Israel, ' It is good for me that I have been afflicted,' &c. 

" Let him think on the sickness of King Hezekiah. 
He was sick unto death, and yet God removed his malady, 
pardoned his sins, and added to his life fifteen years. Oh, 
tell him of that precious blood which cleanseth from all 
sin ! If his conscience is yet burdened, and the adversary 
is tempting him to despair of mercy, remind him of the 
invitation of the Lord Jesus, ; Come unto me all ye that 
labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' 
' All manner of sins shall be forgiven unto men.' ' Come, 
let us reason together, saith the Lord. Though thy sins 
be as scarlet, they shall be made white as snow.' God 
has found a ransom ! Christ suffered, shed his blood, and 



228 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

died for sinners. His obedience, sufferings, and death 
constitute, in the view of Divine Justice, a propitiation, a 
perfect atonement for all the sins of such as are made sen- 
sible by the Spirit of God that they are guilty and con- 
demned, and unable, of themselves, to meet the awful de- 
mands of Jehovah's violated law. This, you know, is 
what constitutes the gospel's glad tidings to perishing sin- 
ners, — 6 By the obedience of one shall many be made 
righteous.' 

u Oh, let your dear brother reflect much on the amaz- 
ing love of the Son of God, the Friend of Sinners ! 
Above all, let him ask the Holy Spirit, for Christ's sake, 
to work in his soul that faith which is the gift of God, 
and which enables the poor penitent to call Christ, pardon, 
the promises, and eternal life, his own ! 

" Again, for yourself, dear Mrs. S., I have only to add, 
that your case strongly reminds me of Mary, when her 
brother Lazarus was sick. ' Lord,' said she, ' if thou 
hadst been here, my brother had not died.' Remember 
what she added : ' But even now I know that whatever 
thou wilt ask of God, God will give it thee.' O my 
dear sister, child of affliction, acquainted with grief, be- 
reaved by death of your beloved father and mother, tell 
the compassionate Jesus that your brother, your only 
brother, is sick. I know that you do this, but do it again, 
and be not discouraged. Remember how Jacob wrestled, 
and how he prevailed ; also the importunity of the widow 
before the unjust judge. Ask in faith without wavering ; 
God is very gracious, and who can tell . . ? May 

the Great Physician undertake his case ; then all will be 
well. Give him again the grateful love of an unworthy 
servant of the Lord Jesus Christ, to whom he has been a 
kind and affectionate friend. If my imperfect prayers can 



LETTER OF SYMPATHY. 229 

be admitted before the throne, through the intercession of 
the glorified Mediator, your heart and the hearts of all 
your beloved family will soon rejoice over a brother re- 
stored to perfect health, and also redeemed." 

" I felt last Monday morning as if I must start off to 
see your brother. I have had very singular impressions 
respecting him, for which I cannot, at present, account." 

Soon after this the faithful pastor was summoned to 
Washington, to what appeared to all the bed of death. 
But those prayers of faith were not to be denied ; those 
u very singular impressions for which he could not ac- 
count," were evidences that they were accepted and an- 
swered. That painful illness was not unto death, but for 
the glory of God, and for the pastor's own exceeding joy. 
The life spared was consecrated to God, and for many 
long years Mr. Dunbar found strength, wisdom, and com- 
panionship in labor, in him for whose recovery he had so 
agonized with God ; and when about to be taken away 
from the people of his love, he said to him, and to others 
of the church who stood around him, and who urged him to 
throw off all care and to compose his mind, " I will leave 
my soul in the hands of the Lord Jesus, and the church 
with you." 

Mr. Dunbar wrote to Mrs. Stewart on the occasion of the 
death of a dearly beloved sister : — 

" Alas, my dear sister, that so soon after we saw you so 
joyful in the sanctuary of the Lord, and at the table of a 
Saviour's dying love, you should be called, by the decisions 
of his wise, but inscrutable providence, to mourning and 
lamentation. .... My prayers have 

20 



230 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

ascended to the Father of mercies, that this new and un- 
looked-for affliction may be graciously sanctified to you 
personally, and to all the surviving children of beloved 
parents now no more. .... 

" ' How vain are all things here below ! ' and oh, how 
good God has been to your as well as to her immortal 
soul, to give you such an evidence, long before death ap- 
proached, that your l dear sister H.,' as you all loved to 
call her, had passed from death unto life by the power of 
the Spirit of God. You firmly believe that she died in 
the Lord, and that it is now well, eternally well, with 
her soul. No vexation of spirit can ever more disturb her 
peaceful repose in heaven. Her last sigh has been heaved, 
her last tear shed. Here we suffer grief and pain ; but in 
the mansions of glory above, the Lamb, who is in the midst 
of the throne, leads them to fountains of living waters, 
and God wipes away all tears from their eyes ; ' the former 
things have passed away.' 

" I was deeply afflicted to hear that the news of Mr. S.'s 
sudden illness at B. had fallen upon your ear before you had 
scarcely taken your last look of an endeared sister's mor- 
tal remains. When I heard of this after the evening lee- 
ture, I thought of you in connection with the sad experi- 
ence of a man greatly beloved of his God, and yet greatly 
tried : you remember his exclamation when addressing the 
Most High in a day of excessive grief, — c Thou hast afflict- 
ed me with wave upon wave ! ' But I well knew that he, 
the Lord, would be with you, as with the sufferers of old 
in the fiery furnace. Have you not felt the everlasting 
arms placed underneath and around your poor, wounded, 
careworn heart during this, as well as former bereave- 
ments ? Oh, how tender are the mercies of our covenant 
God, our incarnate Redeemer ! 



LETTER OF SYMPATHY. 231 

' In all thy afflictions, thy Head feels the pain ; 
Yet all are now needful ; not one is in vain/ 

" May the Lord Je^us be with yon, and may you come 
out of this new furnace, like ' gold seven times tried. 



5 >? 



From a letter of sympathy written by Mr. Dunbar, in 
1852, to Deacon and Mrs. Dexter, of South Boston, on 
the death of their only daughter, we make the following 
extracts : — 

" . . We know the depth of such a wound 

as that which a wise and gracious God has inflicted on 
your hearts ; but we also know how wonderfully the ten- 
der-hearted, compassionate Jesus can support the sinking 
spirits of surviving mourners, and, in spite of themselves, 
dry up and wipe away all their tears ; and, knowing this 
by sad and sweet experience, we could and did implore and 
beseech him, that he would in like manner visit and re- 
lieve and heal each of your wounded hearts. 

" Oh, how affecting, and yet how cheering, to think of 
that dear, sweet, dying child saying to her weeping father, 
1 1 want to go to Jesus ! ' . . No doubt, my dear 

brother and sister, that her precious soul is now mingling in 
seraph strains with the holy and happy multitudes who 
surround the throne of God and of the Lamb, beholding 
and adoring the dear God-Man who said, ' Suffer the little 
ones to come unto me.' Well, there she is, looking 
at the wounds in his hands and feet and blessed temples, 
and at his bleeding side ! . . Till a few days be- 

fore her translation to glory, the blessed God, her Creator, 
suffered her to enjoy the sweet, innocent pleasures which 
childhood is mercifully permitted to indulge in, in this vale 
of tears. Her days :f sickness and pain were compara- 
tively few, and soon elided. God ordained that from a dear, 
fond mother's lips, from a father's family prayers, in His 



232 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

sanctuary, and in the Sabbath school, she should hear the 
name of Jesus. Yes, with her own eyes, before death was 
suffered to mark her as one of his early victims, infinite 
wisdom designed that she should see and read her Redeem- 
er's name, and something of his love and of his suffer- 
ings and death on the cross. And just before he took her 
home to his bosom, and to his everlasting kingdom of glory, 
the Holy Spirit was sent to bring all these things to her 
remembrance. . . And now it is all over. She 

is forever happy and secure in the arms of God her Sav- 
iour. Her work on earth is done ; but you will say, 
; What work ? ' Oh, did she not with her dying breath 
preach and proclaim Jesus ? She was sent to do that very 
thing which thousands upon thousands who have lived to 
a great age have never been known to do, living or dying 
— she confessed the Son of God, her confidence in him, 
and her dying desire to go to him. 

"I have no doubt that this heavy stroke from the Lord's 
merciful hand, painful and sad as it may now feel, will be 
sanctified and blessed to each of you for your good. May 
it also be sanctified to us, your affectionate, sympathizing 

friends. 

' The bud may have a bitter taste, 
But sweet will be the flower.' 

" Your very affectionate friend, 

" Duncan Dunbar." 
In January, 1864, when the father of this dear child 
was suddenly removed from earth, Mr. Dunbar wrote 
thus to his afflicted widow : — 

" My dear, afflicted, and bereaved Mrs. D., — 
Oh, how mysterious and inscrutable 
are the ways of God, and his dealings with the children of 
men ! 



LETTER TO MRS. DEXTER. 233 

" I deeply and sincerely sympathize with you and your 
dear sons in the loss of such a husband and father , and 
yet since it was manifestly the Lord's will at that time 
and in that way to call to his rest in the kingdom of 
heaven his dear faithful servant, why should you, my 
dear, afflicted sister in Christ, why should his now father- 
less children sorrow as those who have no hope ? 

a You know, and all who knew dear Deacon Dexter will 
admit, that he was a man of God ; that the Lord Jesus 
honored and employed him long in his vineyard on earth. 
You know also that he was honored and beloved, and will 
long be lamented by many true friends of the Saviour far 
beyond the bounds of the one church where God assigned 
him his work for so many years of his life. I can assure 
you that dear Mr. Dexter's worth was appreciated far 
beyond what you or any of his immediate family or 
even himself could hear of or know. But you know 
how sadly his loss will be felt in the church at South 
Boston. . . . . . I do not wonder, 

and surely I do not blame you, my dear Mrs. Dexter, if 
you mourn and long mourn the loss of such a husband, and 
your dear sons the loss of such a father. They will long 
lament the want of his wise and prudent counsel and safe 
advice even in the affairs of this life. Happy now for them 
that they uniformly sought and yielded to the advice of 
such father ! He has indeed left 

them a great, a double inheritance, a good name and a 
good example. His prayers for them and for you are 
now ended, but they are not yet all answered. You shall, 
as long as each of you lives, reap returns from heaven for 
the many petitions which his heart and lips sent there 
before him for you all. You and they are by no means 
the only ones who weep and mourn over his departure. 

20* 



234 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

I too, have lost a friend. I am sure that I loved him, 
and I have abundant reason to believe that he loved me. 
Well, all we can say is, ' The Lord took 
him.' I have not a moment's doubt that he is now with 
Christ and all the redeemed in the mansions of glory. I 
know the Lord will sustain you. You have tried him be- 
fore in days of calamity and sadness. . . We all 
love and pity you, and a gracious God will surely sustain 
and heal your wounded heart." 

As a friend, Mr. Dunbar was firm and affectionate. 
Where he loved, he loved to the end ; and when death 
removed his friends, his interest still lived for their 
children and even for their grandchildren, he always 
feeling that these had a strong claim on him for the sake 
of the dead. In times of sorrow and perplexity how 
many such have found in him a father and a consoler ! In 
this sense his family was a very large one ; but there was 
always room in his heart for more. 

To a member of his church, residing on the Hudson, 
Mr. Dunbar wrote in acknowledgment of a present : — 

" My dear, good Brother, — It was very kind and con- 
siderate in you to send your poor old pastor and friend such a 
valuable present of the fruits of the earth. I pray that ' your 
barns may every year be filled with plenty.' . . Your 
present is doubly dear to me, as it gives tangible assurance 
that you think of me although too far distant to profit by my 
pastoral labors. . . I certainly desire to see you and 
to make the acquaintance of that young lady whom you 
have chosen to make your companion for life. May the 
God of Abraham bless you both and make you helpers of 
each other's joy, in your pilgrimage through a world of 



LETTER TO REV. DR. KENNARD. 235 

strange vicissitudes, to ; the rest that remain eth for the 
people of God.' 

" By the way, what of that Baptist interest you and I 
were to inaugurate at R. ? I believe, however, the attempt 
was only to be made when I became too old to be of any use 
in the city ! I hope you are both living near to God, by 
much secret and family prayer, and by much reading and 
meditation of the Holy Scriptures. Cast all your cares 
on the Lord Jesus Christ. He careth for you. 

" Don't be discouraged either for the ultimate salvation 
of our dear country, or the final triumph of the cause and 
kingdom of our blessed Redeemer. 

i Loud roaring, the billows would thee overwhelm, 
But skilful's the Pilot that sits at the helm ; 
His wisdom, and power, and faithfulness stand, 
Engaged to conduct thee in safety to land/ " 

To show the brotherly feeling Mr. Dunbar cherished 
toward ministers with whom he was on terms of intimacy, 
we give extracts from letters to one of his oldest and most 
endeared friends, Rev. Dr. Kennard, of Philadelphia : — 

" My very dear Brother Kennard, — This is Mon- 
day morning. Your note by the poor Irish lad w T as deliv- 
ered to me yesterday. I thank you for this and for every 
opportunity you may afford me of showing any kindness 
to strangers in the name of the stranger's God : and I 
thank you, in the name of the good Samaritan, for all that 
you are doing from time to time for such homeless, friend- 
less creatures. ' Blessed is he that considereth the poor ; 
for the Lord will deliver him in the time of trouble.' 

" I know your time must be occupied, you dear working 
soul ; but cannot you lean your poor, tired head upon the 



236 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

sofa, and dictate to one of my dear young friends who call 
you ' father/ and let her write ? I want to know how 
you are now. 

• •••••••• 

" Keep up your courage, you dear man ; for I have no 
idea that your work in the Saviour's vineyard is done yet, 
by a great deal ! May the Lord Jesus be with your 
spirit ! 

• •••••••• 

" God willing, I will be with you at the Philadelphia 
Association, and can preach for the friends at Budd Street 
the first Lord's day in October. Of this, please inform 
them. Say, also, that I sincerely sympathize with them as 
a church, under their present deprivation of the faithful 
labors of their dear, afflicted pastor. May the God of 
love graciously sustain our beloved brother Dodge, now 
a prisoner and a sufferer ! If it be the Lord's will, may he 
yet be restored to his people, and spared to his dear family 
for a great while to come. If the dear man is in a condi- 
tion to be seen and spoken to, by all means do me the 
additional favor to call and convey to him these expressions 
of my love and sympathy. The day may soon come, my 
dear brother, when a sorrowful wife and children will 
bend over you and me, and behold us suffering and sink- 
ing, without the power to relieve us, or to prolong life. 

" Since my return home, my hands have been more 
than full, visiting the sick, and trying to dispose of some 
five or six strangers whom the God of the stranger has 
thrown upon me, as he lately sent upon you poor brother 

, with scores of others, no doubt, of whom I know 

nothing. But He knows all about it, and if they are dear 
to the Lord Jesus, as most of those who favor us with 



LETTERS. 237 

calls in their distress profess to be, the day is not far dis- 
tant when he will say unto you, before angels and men, 
1 Inasmuch as ye have done to one of the least,' &c, ; ye 
have done it unto me.' May you be like David's ox, — 
c strong to labor ' in such work ; may neither of us be 
< weary in well-doing.' Surely it ought to be regarded as 
a mark of God's approbation, when he sends little jobs of 
this nature to do for him. Think of this ! 

" I am very sorry to learn, my dear brother, how poorly 
you have been. Blessed be your gracious Physician, I 
hope to see you again in the land of the living. 

u Thank, for me, the young lady whose nimble quill so 
handsomely figured upon the sheet I received from you 
before the last ; and do not let me forget to send love to 
little Miss B. God bless you all ! 

• • • • • • • • . 

" Much joy to you and dear Mrs. K. on the loss of a 
daughter and the gain of a son, since I saw you last. 
May the Lord abundantly bless the dear young pair, and 
have them continually under the shadow of his wing ! 

" If I don't visit you soon, I fear some of the rest will 
be running off from their mother ! I must go on and see 
about these matters ! 

" Oh, my dear brother, how gracious the Lord is and 
has been to your family and mine, so far ! Instead of 
losing our children by death, as many parents do, He is 
disposing of one now, and one then, where we know they 
are happy, and where we can see and hear from them. 
He has graciously begun with yours, and will doubtless go 
on, as he has already with mine." ..:..•• 




CHAPTER XXIV. 

Tenderness as a Father — The Midnight Prayer — Family Letters. 

)R. DUNBAR was a most prayerful and affection- 
ate father, tenderly regardful of the temporal and 
spiritual interests of his children. 

" A few years since," writes one of his daugh- 
ters, " I was at home, sick and suffering intense 
pain. One night my dear father said to me, ' Now that 
you are a little easier, I want you to lie down in your 
mother's bed. When a little child, you used to think 
you would be well if you could only sleep there. Try 
it to-night, and see if it does not help you. I will sit 
down beside you and read ; if you need anything, you can 
speak to me.' I did so, and tried to bear my intense suf- 
fering quietly. He thought me sleeping. Long after 
midnight, he closed his Bible, and prayed in an audible 
whisper in Gaelic, of which, of course, I understood not a 
word. After this, he prayed in English, and that earnest, 
agonizing pleading I shall never forget. This was, doubt- 
less, the hour devoted to supplication with reference to his 
own spiritual needs. The words were few, but often 
repeated : ' O God, have mercy, have mercy, have mercy, 
upon me ! For the Lord Jesus Christ's sake, have mercy 
upon me. I plead for mercy through the blood of the 
Lord Jesus Christ alone ! Have mercy, have mercy upon 
my soul ! ' As I lay upon that pillow, hallowed by his 
prayers and midnight communings with God, my tears 

(238) 



LETTERS. 239 

flowed fast, and I thought, ' If the righteous scarcely be 
saved, where shall I, so weak and faithless, appear ? ' 
Then he slipped softly out of the room to seek sleep else- 
where, that I might find what rest I could beside my 
tender mother. Notwithstanding all the loving-kindness 
which has followed me since the day I have called an- 
other house than his ' my home,' I have often, often looked 
back and longed to be a child again, that I might enjoy 
the love and perfect sympathy that were ours when little 
children. 5 ' 

The following letter was written under a little touch 
of home-sickness perhaps, after leaving New York for 
the first time, and before his family had joined him : — 

" South Boston, Jan. 12, 1844. 

u My dear K., — You cannot conceive how thank- 
ful I felt for your kind letter. I really began to feel soli- 
tary, sad, lonely and homesick ; and your note, though 
short, was worth fifty dollars to my poor, careworn mind. 
Write often. 

'* I feei as if the ties which had been cementing me for 
many years to those tried Christian friends in New York 
were now, at least for the present, all burst asunder. ' I am 
like a sparrow upon the house-tops, alone.' The account 
you send me of the great kindness of our friends to you 
in my absence makes me wish I were near enough to 
thank them a thousand times for the deep interest they 
lately manifested in the welfare of the church, and the un- 
wearied and affectionate sympathy shown to us as a fam- 
ily. I now begin to fear that we never sufficiently knew 
and appreciated their worth as faithful, steadfast friends. 
Do not fail to express to dear Mrs. I. my most grateful 
thanks for her kindness since I left. May a gracious 



240 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

Providence richly reward her ! Tell her, her dear hus- 
band was waiting at the steamboat to see me off, the day 
I left New York. For that mark of his kind respect, and 
the generous message which he whispered in my ear as he 
parted with me, I shall ever love and remember him. 
May I soon be called to New York to bury him with 
Christ in baptism ! " 1 

To one of his daughters he writes : — 

" Home, Tuesday Evening. 

u My Dear, — We are all sorry you are suffering from 
that cruel inflammatory rheumatism ; but try and exercise 
all the patience the Lord may give you in answer to 
prayer. Be sure and keep up your spirits, trusting in the 
goodness of the Saviour, who knows what bodily pain is, 
as well as mental distress, and that of the most over- 
whelming, excruciating nature Surely he has not 

divested himself of the power with which he healed ' all 
manner of diseases/ when here on earth — nor are his 
bowels of compassion shut up, which so readily moved 
here at the sight of human suffering. It was long after 
lie took his seat on the mediatorial throne that his blessed 
spirit directed an apostle to write, * Is any afflicted ? 
— let him pray.' I tell you, my dear daughter, it is not 
a vain thing to ask the Lord Jesus now in heaven to heal 
our bodily diseases ! He often sends these, for they are 
his servants, to bring us by necessity to speak to him. 
He loves, oh ! he loves to hear from souls that he has 
redeemed ; and when all things go well with them here, 
they have often little or nothing to say to him. Hence 
he sends off, as despatches from his presence, some mental 
or corporeal affliction, just to compel us to open our 
mouths wide> that he may get to himself glory in our 

1 These were the friends at whose house Mr. Dunbar died. 



LETTERS. 241 

grateful thanks and praise for filling them. Depend 
upon it, it is even so. Ask Him, then. ' Ask, and you 
shall receive.' ' Whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, 
the Father will give it you.' .... 

" Home, Tuesday, 1 o'clock, p. m. 
" My dear Daughter, — In hasty reply to one part of your 
welcome letter <,f yesterday, let me say, ' for I love to heal 
broken bones,' cheer up, you poor, dear soul. Your very 
consciousness of deadness and darkness and unfeelingness 
and want of faith, love, confidence, gratitude, every thing, 
is to me a very clear proof that God the Spirit has put life 
into your soul, to see, to feel, to condemn yourself. Did ever 
one child of Adam since the fall, see and acknowledge, and 
lament or disapprove of such things as grieve you, except 
those souls that are savingly quickened by God's grace, to 
see 6 the plague of their own hearts ? ' ' To will is pres- 
ent with me, but how to perform.' &c. 'Tis a great part 
of the sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit, to show regen- 
erate souls the emptiness, the vanity, the vileness, the hard- 
ness, the stupidity, the ingratitude, the desperate wicked- 
ness of their own hearts, that they may be driven by ne- 
cessity to Jesus, the crucified, — to his blood, his merit, for 
justification before God, having nothing in themselves on 
which they can lean or rely, and to see and feel this, or 
else they will never appreciate the La ml) of God as he is 
set forth in the gospel. Oh for time to say more ! My 
poor heart isfulL God's presence attend you ! . . " 

To one of his children, who while absent from home 
indulged a trembling hope in Christ, Mr. Dunbar wrote : — - 

" New York, Wednesday Noon. 

" My very dear , Your affectionate letter to your 

mother and myself was received yesterday afternoon. We 
bless God, my dear , that your thoughts are still occupied 

21 



242 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

with the concerns of your soul ; for we knew that your 
visit, under circumstances so exciting, had a tendency to 
dissipate gracious impressions and lead you to grieve the 
Spirit of God. It will, however, tend to convince you, by 
painful experience, that 4 the heart is deceitful above all 
things,' and that you have need every moment to c watch 
and be sober.' For, 

' Of all the foes we meet, 
None so apt to turn our feet, 
None betray us into sin, 
Like the foes we have within. 

' But let nothing spoil your peace, 
Christ will also conquer these ; 
Then the joyful news will come, 
Child, your Father calls, come home ! ' 

" You will yet learn more and more of the weakness, the 
vanity, the sinful forgetfulness of the soul, after all that the 
blessed Spirit of a Holy God has done in opening your eyes 
and changing your will. I beg of you ever to remember, 
however, that your pardon and the justification of your 
soul before God is one thing, and the sanctification of the 
powers and faculties of that soul is altogether another and 
a very different thing. The first of these, pardon and jus- 
tification, we obtain and may be assured of, from the mo- 
ment we really believe on the Lord Jesus Christ. It is al- 
together on his account and for his sake that our sins are 
forgiven, and that God becomes at once and forever recon- 
ciled to us, — notwithstanding all we have ever done to of- 
fend him, and notwithstanding our remaining ignorance, 
imperfection in holiness, and proneness to forget and wan- 
der from him in our minds and affections. The sufferings 
to be endured and the spotless and holy obedience to be 
rendered to Jehovah's righteous law, before pardon could 



LETTERS. 243 

come to us rebels and transgressors, were all endured and 
rendered for us, and in our stead, by the Lord Jesus Christ, 
God's only dear and well-beloved Son. Hence the plain 
meaning of such precious Scriptures as the following : 
c Christ suffered for us, the just for the unjust.' * Christ 
loved us, and gave himself for us, an offering and a sac- 
rifice to God.' ' Christ died for our sins.' ' We have re- 
demption through his blood, even the forgiveness of our 
sins.' ' He was wounded for our transgressions, he was 
bruised for our iniquities.' 

" Now, my dear, if you believe this, you will feel that 
you are justified by faith (or believing), and will assured- 
ly feel that you have peace with God, through the Lord 
Jesus Christ. But the sanctification of your soul, as I 
said before, is quite a different matter. To procure for 
guilty, lost, and hell-deserving sinners of mankind, free 
and full pardon, acceptance with God, and eternal life, the 
blessed Son of God had to act and suffer and die. And 
whosoever believe th this record or testimony concerning 
him, shall never perish, but have everlasting life, as the 
free gift of God, for Christ's sake. But, after the soul be- 
lieveth, after the disposition of the mind and heart is 
turned toward God and holiness, the work of sanetifica- 
tion has to be carried on by the Spirit of God, and is at 
best but a work just begun. It will sometimes be going 
forward, in the judgment of your feelings, and sometimes 
going backward. There is so much corruption yet re- 
maining in the heart, to be purged and overcome, that when 
you discover this, and long to be rid of it, Satan, who is a 
liar, will strongly impress upon your mind that there is no 
grace at all in your heart — that God never awakened or 
called you by his Spirit — that you need not hope to be 
saved or accepted of God while such contrary feelings are 



244 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

existing in your soul ; and that you must be holy and pure 
and perfectly free from all these contrary things, before 
you can hope that Christ will save you or hear your pray- 
ers. 

" Thousands of poor, trembling, sincere souls, have been 
painfully tossed upon these billows, without comfort and 
but little hope, just because they neglected to learn, from 
the word of God, the great and important distinction be- 
tween the work of Christ for our salvation and the work 
of the Spirit for our sanetifieation. When Christ gave up 
the ghost on Calvary, the work of our redemption and sal- 
vation was finished and completed forever ; nothing more 
is to be done by Him, and nothing ean be done, by any of 
us sinners, to make that great salvation more secure. We 
receive it and the comfort of it, by believing, believing, 
believing. ' He that believeth shall not come into con- 
demnation.' 4 He that believeth shall not make haste.' 
'He that believeth shall not be confounded.' 'By faith 
(believing) ye stand.' c It is by faith, that it might be 
of grace.' ' It is faith that purifieth the heart ' — that 
i worketh by love ' — that ' overcometh the world ' — 
and ' without faith it is impossible to please God.' We 
must look unto Jesus by prayer, as the Author and Fin- 
isher of this faith. It ' cometh by hearing.' You must, 
therefore, as a new-born babe, desire (read and meditate 
upon) the milk of the word, that you may grow thereby. 
When the work of sanctification is carried on in your 
soul, you will often feel the remaining hardness of your 
heart, your dreadful ignorance of the things of God and 
of your duty. You will also feel sinful inclinations rising 
up within ; you will murmur and be impatient, and you 
may even fret against God for creating you or anything else, 
or for allowing sin to enter the world. You may, moreover, 



LETTERS. 245 

feel tempted to question whether there is a God, or 
whether all that is revealed is not a mere fiction. You 
may be left to fear that you have done despite to the 
Spirit of grace, and that you need not hope, evermore, to 
enjoy comfort or. peace of mind ; and to feel that religion 
is irksome, without any pleasure ; and that you had better 
give up at once and go back to your former enjoyments. 
But all this comes from the wicked one, of whose devices 
you are yet comparatively ignorant. 

" You are but a babe in Christ, in knowledge, in expe- 
rience. Search the word of God. 4 Think it not strange 
concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though 
some strange thing happened unto you.' 6 Now, for a 
season, if need be, you are in heaviness through manifold 
temptations.' ' But the Lord is faithful, who will not 
suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able, but will, 
with the temptation, also make a way of escape, that ye 
may be able to bear it.' 

" Read this hurried epistle over and over, and oh, may 
the Spirit of all grace show you that your salvation de- 
pends not on what you feel, but upon what you believe, 
— even upon Jesus Christ and him crucified, — ' the end 
of the law for righteousness, to every one that believeth.' 

" God bless you, my dear child, and ' give you joy and 
peace in believing.' Take a great deal of love and sym- 
pathy from your affectionate mother and sisters. We shall 
all remember you before the mercy-seat. 

" Your dear and very affectionate father, 

" Duncan Dunbar." 

On the death of his only sister he wrote : — 

" My own dear Daughter, — I thank you for your 
sympathy and affectionate remembrance in my late be- 

21* '• 



246 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

reavement, — the death of my poor, afflicted, and only sis- 
ter. God has graciously borne me up as on eagle's wings 
above all that has ever befallen me ; but this last knock 
at my door sounds louder than many former admonitions 
of his providence. She was my junior by two years ; 
since she is taken, why am I left? 

" Perhaps I may be spared a good while to take care 
of her poor invalid orphan, Willie, and also of my own 
dear M. Why, dear me ! I really feel that the more the 
Lord lays on my shoulders, the broader and stronger he 
makes them ! As my day, so my strength is. 

" Love to all my boys, from their affectionate 

" Grandfather." 

To one of his family, who was in trial and perplexity 
he wrote : — 

u Surely, my dear , one line, though written 

hastily, and with pencil, is better than no letter at all 
from poor c Grandpa.' Well, I am somewhat better as 
to the hurt I got from the pole of the omnibus. My cold 
is also better, so that I preached once last Lord's day. 

Oh, how I did wish that you and dear had been 

with me to nurse me a little ! 

" As to your own affairs, — c do nothing rashly ' — (town 
clerk of Ephesus). Keep still, believe, hope, wait. 6 To 
everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose.' 
' The Lord reigneth,' let that be enough for you ! One 
said, ' He knoweth the way that I take ; when he hath 
tried me, I shall come forth,' &c. ' My soul, wait thou 
only upon God. From him is all my expectation. 
Blessed is the man that trusteth in him.' God bless you." 

To another of his daughters he wrote, in a time of 
spiritual trial : 



LETTERS. 247 

" Come now, my dear daughter, let me have a long 
letter from you at once. I want you to believe that Jesus 
loves you, that he died to redeem you, and that while you 
feel it in your heart to come unto God the Father by him, 
he will never cast you out nor forsake you. 

' He could not have taught you 
To trust in His name, 
And thus far have brought you, 
To put you to shame/ 

" I w T ant you to begin and read through the New Tes- 
tament, slowly, thoughtfully, and prayerfully. Short, 
ejaculatory prayers to God the Holy Spirit, for under- 
standing of what you read, will, insensibly to yourself, 
nourish, strengthen, and tranquillize your whole soul. 

" Alas for my want of time ! The foregoing was writ- 
ten late Friday night ; on Saturday I had not a moment 
to finish it, and now it is late on Sunday night, after three 
services. If I leave it till morning, I shall again be 
interrupted. 

" We fear your dear sister is not permanently bet- 
ter. May the Lord pity and relieve her ! We can all 
pray for her, and the Lord Jesus may graciously heal 
her, as he healed thousands by his silent power from hea- 
ven, and also by his word and touch when here on the 
earth. Oh, what a mercy from his hand, to be free from 
bodily pain, and from distraction of mind ! c Bless the 
Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits ! ' 

In another family letter he asks, " What do you think 
of grandpa's plan for sweeping off that missionary debt ? 
I trust the churches which are delinquent in this $ 36,000 
matter, will come forward at once, and put their shoulders 
under the wheel, till it is banished as a thing that was 
but 



is not. 



f " 




CHAPTER XXV. 

Afflictions — God's Presence as the Comforter — His Mother's Death — A Great Sorrow 
at Home — At Evening-Time it is Light — The Pure in Heart see God — Letter after 
a Great Bereavement — Letters of Sympathy. 

JR. DUNBAR'S domestic affections were very- 
strong, and God dealt mercifully with him, send- 
ing but seldom the shadow of death to his dwelling. 
A little twin boy died in St. George, N. B., an 
infant of weeks ; and not again for fifteen years 
afterward was the circle broken. Then his mate, a youth 
of rare beauty and promise, was called very suddenly 
from earth, shortly after his return from Europe, whither 
he had accompanied his parents. This last was a terrible 
stroke to the family, who had allowed their hearts to be- 
come very closely entwined about this son and brother ; 
but to Mr. Dunbar it was one of God's special visitations. 
He remarked, afterward, that when he first looked the 
danger in the face, he feared that the trial would prove 
more than he had grace for; that he might be left to 
wound the Saviour, — whose supporting love he had so 
often recommended to others, — by a want of submission 
to his will. But with the affliction came strength to bear 
it. So sensibly was he supported that he felt, in closing 
those dear, beautiful eyes, with his own hand, that, had 
God called him to yield all the eight instead of one child 
only, he could have done it without a murmur, so right- 
eous and merciful did his will appear to him. 

Previous to this last bereavement, Mr. Dunbar's parents 

(248) 



his mother's death. 249 

had both died in their Highland home. When the news 
of his mother's death reached him, he wept like a child. 
" I have always felt," he said, " that if ever a day should 
come when every other door in the world were shut against 
me, hers would still be open." Years and distance had 
not weakened his memory of her love. " His mother," 
writes a Scotch minister, " fell a victim to her Highland 
hospitality." A poor stranger came to her house, complain- 
ing that he was very ill. He had been at the fair, selling 
almanacs, and was on his way home, but could go no 
farther. He had fallen into merciful hands when he sank 
at her door. All others were alarmed at the disease that 
soon showed itself, and fled from him ; but she, with her 
own hands, administered nourishment and medicine, and 
did all that mortal could do to save him ; but it was un- 
availing. He died, and was buried among strangers, in 
the church-yard of Gran town. A fortnight afterward, she, 
having taken the infection, closed her own work on earth. 
Such was the woman, who, in her narrow sphere in that 
remote Highland home, reared this man of God to be the 
consoler of many, the friend of the stranger, the helper 
of the needy. Doubtless the seed of pity and gentleness, 
sown in childhood, sprang up into that harvest of mercy 
by which so many were fed and comforted in the nearly 
half a century of his philanthropic labors. In this view, 
no woman's sphere is narrow whc has one child to train 
for life. 

For nearly twenty-four years after the loss, by death, of 
his son, Mr. Dunbar's family remained unbroken. As his 
children scattered, it was to make many homes, from each 
of which they all looked back to their father's house as 
still the home, by way of preeminence, until its doors were 
closed forever by the hand of death. 



250 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

In 1859, a sorrow, like unto no other sorrow they had 
ever known, was sent by an unerring Providence. Mrs. 
Dunbar, whose domestic and Christian life had been one 
of rare beauty and consistency, was called to her rest. Her 
piety was deep and earnest, strongly marked by that 
charity which thinketh no evil, and by a keen and tender 
sensitiveness for the honor of Christ and his cause ; and 
yet so great were her humility and self-distrust, so deep 
her consciousness of indwelling sin, that she did not al- 
ways enjoy that full assurance of acceptance, which is the 
privilege of God's chosen, but was the subject of many 
doubts and fears. This was her infirmity ; but it is cheer- 
ing to know that, a few years before her death, these 
clouds were all dispelled from her mind, and that, hence- 
forth -she lived more in the light, till she ascended to the 
home where is quietness and assurance forever. The sum- 
mer previous to her death, being in Massachusetts with 
one of her daughters, she alluded to those habitual doubts 
and to her fear of death as things gone by. She said, 
" One day in searching the library for a book, I laid my 
hand on a little, old tract, called ' Venture on Him.' I 
was struck with the title, and slipped the tract into my 
pocket to read at my leisure. There was nothing in it 
I did not know before ; but, while reading it, the way of 
salvation seemed plain, and acceptance with Christ so sure 
to those who sought him, that I wondered how any one 
could doubt his willingness to save." 

A few months after this, her scattered children were 
gathered at home to stand round her dying bed. Then 
this little passage in her experience was mentioned, and 
the old tract sought, but not found. Probably she had 
placed it in the hands of some one, who, like herself, was 
seeking to be taken more fully into the light. 



mbs. dunbar's death. 251 

During the previous winter, Mrs. Dunbar had been con- 
fined for many weeks to a darkened room with an inflamma- 
tion of the eye, and necessarily put on such low diet as 
greatly to reduce her strength. In March, however, she 
was able to leave her room and go to that of her daughter, 
who had been ill at the same time. She, being weak, was 
accompanied upstairs by her dear friend of more than 
thirty years, Mrs. Mary Parsell, who now resided in 
the family. They spent a cheerful half-hour there, and 
then left. But as she descended the stairs, Mrs. Dunbar 
was deceived by the gas-light, and, missing the last step, 
fell on her side. She at once felt that she was injured, 
and with her usual disregard of self, she said, " Oh, don't 
tell M. that I am hurt ! Poor father will be discouraged ; 
he will think now that I am never going to be well 
again ! " 

On his return from the evening meeting, Mr. Dunbar 
called in his physician, who at once expressed great fears 
of the result. These proved to be but too well grounded. 
A fever, excited by the injuries, soon set in, and she be- 
gan to sink, although not herself conscious of it. When 
told by one of her daughters how alarming her case was, 
she seemed a little surprised, but replied, calmly, " We 
must just submit to God's will, my dear ; I am not afraid 
of death." And that was the last allusion she made 
to it. 

On Sunday morning, March 11, 1859, after nine days 
of suffering, she passed away to the rest and joy of the 
sinless Sabbath. No spirit ever had less of earthliness to 
cast off in its upward flight than hers, and few w T ho moved 
so quietly below ever left so wide a void in the home, the 
church, and among the poor. " Blessed are the pure in 
heart, for they shall see God." 



252 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

Mr. Dunbar wrote thus to one of his daughters, who 
had returned to her own home after the death of her 
mother : — 

" My dear Daughter, — I knew it would cheer you 
to hear that those of us who are left are doing well, and that 
the Lord is sustaining us under our heavy bereavement. 
I have just a moment this morning, before company and 
calls begin, to say that dear M.'s health is improving, though 
slowly, and that God's goodness is wonderfully displayed in 
her case and mine, causing us to mount up above all that has 
happened ; in which grief you and your dear husband were 
such deep sharers. I do hope, my dear, that you will try 
to surmount your sorrow, and forget in a measure your 
sad loss of a dear mother, in the consideration that 4 it is 
well,' eternally well, with her. 

" I can truly say that I am more and more reconciled 
to what the Lord has done, by the belief that she died in 
the faith of a glorious resurrection with the Son of God 
when he shall come the second time to gather from the 
four winds the precious dust of his redeemed. And it 
ought to comfort you, amid your doubts and fears, to know 
that to a far later period of life than that to which you 
have attained, her mind was habitually perplexed with 
painful doubts and fears about her conversion and her 
eternal state, but that for the last few years the Saviour 
favored her soul w T ith clearer views of his own all-suffi- 
ciency, and that she gradually ceased looking, as she 
had long done, to her own unworthiness and conscious 
imperfection and unbelief. Her mind was more in- 
tensely occupied in reading and thinking of, and look- 
ing at, the Lord Jesus Christ as he is set forth in the 
1 1 oly Scriptures. 



LETTER. 253 

" It is the mistake of thousands who are really regener- 
ated, to be seeking for that in their own hearts and lives 
which God and his justice finds only in the great Media- 
tor. God is well pleased with what his own dear Son 
has done and suffered ; and if you and I and millions more 
will only be satisfied, and thus believe on the Lord Jesus 
Christ, we shall be saved ! So the book of God declares. 
That is 

' the word of truth and love, 



Sent to the nations from above ; 
Jehovah here resolves to show 
What his Almighty power can do/ 

u Let me hear from you very soon. I do not feel sad 
and lonely ; so you must not worry about your dear father. 
I love you all more than ever. Give much love to G. and 
the dear boys. I hope they have all escaped the conta- 
gion you feared. If so, say to God, as David did, ' O 
thou Preserver of men ! ■ God bless you all. 

" Your very affectionate father, 

" Duncan Dunbar." 

To his youngest daughter, absent on a visit, he wrote : — 

" Sunday night, eleven o'clock. 

"Dear, M., — I thank you for your two good letters 

since you left me I am very tired. It was our 

communion, and I baptized and preached all day without 
any help ; and I will only say that I am truly sorry that 
your health is not more improved. May the Lord give 
you patience and submission to his holy will, my dear 
daughter, and all will be well in the end. 

* Though painful at present, 
'Twill cease before long ; 
22 



254 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

And then, oh, how pleasant 
The conqueror's song ! ' 

Hear the blessed Saviour saying, — 

* Compare thy grief with mine, 

Think what my love for thee endured, 
And thou wilt not repine/ 

Remember that the Lord has all power in heaven and on 
earth to heal diseases and to forgive sins. 

u K. and myself, with two of her children, will leave 
here, the Lord willing, on Tuesday, by the Norwich route ; 
so you will know when to look for us at ' The Corner.' 
I must preach there for J. the last Lord's day in August, 
although I ought to rest all the time given me as a vaca- 
tion. 

u I have been attending to the iron-fence around the 
last resting-place of your dear mother ! Oh, how I miss 
her ! Never before, till since you left me, did I realize the 
depth of my bereavement. The Lord has, in mercy, kept 
it at a distance from me ever since the day of her funeral, 
and I have tried to avoid alluding to her often for your 
sake. But now that you are absent, the fountains of my 
heart have spurned the former control, — although I seem 
to hear her constantly saying to me, — 

1 Weep not for me when you stand round my grave.' " 







CHAPTER XXVI. 

Physical Constitution — Sails for Europe — Arrival — Sight of the Heather — First Sab- 
hath in Scotland — The Sacrament of the Lord's Supper — His Interest in 
America — A Church in a Hotel — The Baptistery — Visit to Arbroath, Brechin 
and Aberdeen — The Memory of a Voice — Reaches Gran town — The Queen's Cham- 
ber — Her Majesty Scorned by a Highland Lass — Peter Grant — Sabbath Services — A 
Highland Welcome — Castle Grant — The Haunted Room — The Laird of Dalrey and 
his Scotch Paradise — Elgin — Inverness — Tour of the Caledonian Canal — Aban — 
Staffa — A Perilous Adventure — The Trosachs — Back to Edinburgh — York — 
London — Paris — Homeward Voyage — A Gale at Sea — Home Again — Fresh foi 
Labor — Growing Meet for Heaven. 

)R. DUNBAR'S physical constitution was as near- 
ly perfect as often falls to the lot of man ; so that 
through life he set at naught many of the laws of 
nature in a way that would have sent most men 
to an early grave. It was long his custom to turn 
night into day, by beginning to read and study 
after all others had retired to rest and the house was 
quiet, — one and two o'clock in the morning being his usual 
bedtime. This habit he probably acquired from stern 
necessity, as, by day, his time was so fully occupied and 
interrupted as to prevent retirement. 

He was equally regardless of regularity in his meals ; 
often, when going from a sick-bed to a funeral, and from some 
society meeting to the home of poverty, forgetting his din- 
ner, and not touching food between breakfast and tea. 
This strength of constitution he always attributed to the 
hardy manner in which he was reared in his Highland 
home. When wanting but six years of fourscore, his form 
was erect, his step firm, his eye bright, his hearing perfect, 

(255) 



256 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

and his heart young ; so that any stranger would have 
pronounced him a vigorous man for sixty years. To this 
may be attributed the vast amount of labor he performed, 
— labor which would have crushed three men of ordinary 
powers. 

The latter years of his life were laden with increased 
toil ; and sometimes he complained of w r eariness, which 
was new for him. He felt the need of rest from the labors 
of the pulpit and the cares of the pastorate, and often ex- 
pressed a desire that he might " once more visit dear old 
Scotland." Friends, both in his own church and out of 
it, encouraged him to go, for his own sake as well as in the 
hope that a sea-voyage might restore health to his young- 
est daughter, who would accompany him. On the first 
of August, 1863, they, with a young friend, sailed from 
New York in the steamer " City of London," Captain 
Petrie. After a voyage, rendered very agreeable by the 
kindness of the genial captain and the company of intelli- 
gent passengers, they reached Liverpool, and went directly 
to Scotland. After leaving Edinburgh, Mr. Dunbar caught 
sight, for the first time, of the heather, — that simple 
flower, so dear to the heart of every Scot. It seemed to 
put new life in him ; and he could hardly keep his seat in 
the car, so anxious was he once more to grasp it, as in the 
days of his boyhood. Nor did it lose its charm by the 
daily and hourly sight. Every sprig he saw was a joy 
to him. He remembered the love he bore it in childhood, 
when he used to lie in a bed of it on a slope near his 
father's house, and, buried among the blossoms, roll down 
to the street, in his sport. It now seemed to him like the 
face of an old playfellow, or of a long-lost, familiar friend. 
That and the thistle w T ere ever very dear, as the emblems 
of the land he loved so tenderly. 



SABBATH IN SCOTLAND. 257 

It was remarkable that one, loving his own land with 
such fervor, should have so large a place in his heart for 
his adopted country. He did not love America less, but 
Scotland more ; and was as sensitive when a disparaging 
word was said of one as of the other. He once remarked 
to a friend, that he loved to live in America, but that he 
should like to die and be buried in Scotland. 

The first Sabbath in Britain was passed in Anstruther, 
a very old town on the German Ocean. Here he visited, 
and was most hospitably entertained, at the house of Mr. 
Todd, whose relatives were connected with McDougal 
Street Church, and " talked a little " to the brethren 
there ; — he was forbidden to preach, as his leave of ab- 
sence was for rest. 

Scotch Baptists celebrate the Lord's Supper every Sab- 
bath morning ; and the simplicity with which it was ad- 
ministered here was new to the ladies of the party. On 
the table were placed cups, already filled, and on a plate, 
four half-slices of bread, one of which was passed by one 
deacon to another, who, having broken off a piece for him- 
self, passed the slice — not the plate — to his next neigh- 
bor, who, in his turn, gave it to another ; and so on, till 
all were supplied. The communion was enjoyed as that 
of the saints. But a question rose in their minds, whether 
the mode was primitive as well as simple ; whether, to Bap- 
tists, professing to follow- their Pattern, even in the smallest 
things, the sight of pouring the wine and breaking the 
bread would not be more suggestive of the flowing blood 
and broken body of Him whose death they commemorate. 

During this journey, wherever he might be, Mr. Dunbar 
made it a point, as a subject uppermost in his mind, to 
present correct views of the great struggle then going on 
in America. His intense hatred of slavery was combined 

22 * ' 



258 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

with great love to his adopted country, and he never lost 
an opportunity of denouncing the one and pleading for the 
other. He often conversed upon this ever-fresh theme till 
far into the night. When travelling, he would introduce 
the subject, by offering his snuff-box to some sensible-look- 
ing fellow-passenger, saying, " Will you take a pinch of 
snuff which has just come from America ? " At this word, 
all ears were open, and a warm discussion would ensue, 
continuing, sometimes, for hours, — he always contriving, 
when he reached his station, to have the last word through 
the car-window. If ever he was absent from the ladies 
under his care longer than the appointed time, they knew 
that he had fallen in with friends who needed enlightening 
on what he considered the one great movement of the 
day. 

When stopping at a hotel in Dundee, being anxious to 
find the widow of a Baptist minister, to whom he had a 
letter, he asked a waiter if he knew any persons of that 
denomination in the city. He replied, that the proprietor 
of the house was one of them, and at once brought him to 
Mr. Dunbar. He belonged to a little band bearing the 
name of u Baptist," but differing materially from the 
body so called among us. They believed the gospel 
to be u free," and therefore denounced a paid ministry 
as " hirelings ; " and held other views peculiar to them- 
selves. Mine host visited Mr. Dunbar in his private par- 
lor, and they discussed their differences at considerable 
length. We believe he did not " hold to " houses set apart 
for worship, — the church, of which he was one of the several 
pastors, meeting in a hall on the lower floor of the hotel. 
He took Mr. Dunbar and the ladies down to see it (a long 
room, with pine benches), and said, pointing to the corner, 
" Yon is the baptistery." After looking around in vain for 



CASTLE OF BRECHIN. 259 

it, they were shown a rough box, which had probably been 
extemporized for some rare occasion, — for this class of 
Baptists do not make very large reprisals from the king- 
dom of Satan, but remain much as they have been for long 
years, — as Mr. Dunbar payfully expressed it, — " A fold 
of five sheep, four of whom were shepherds." 

He met with, and talked to, his brethren at Arbroath, 
where the only remaining relatives of Mr. Dunbar reside. 
Here they noticed, with pleasure, that at church, very many 
of the sisters had in their hands tiny and exquisite bouquets. 
When they were seated, an aged woman behind them 
leaned forward, touched Miss Dunbar, and handed her 
her own flowers, — a beautiful welcome to a stranger. 
Here Mr. Dunbar left, as elsewhere, a brother's memory, 
so that his death, the following year, caused sorrow to that 
little band. A kind and sympathizing letter from two of 
them to the family expresses their feelings on hearing of 
the sad event. 

He visited the fine castle of Brechin, on the South Esk, 
and very near it saw, and pointed out to his companions, a 
house which awakened memories of the past, — the one in 
which he first met the wife of his youth, when he went, as 
before mentioned, to deliver a letter from her pastor, Mr. 
Penman, of Arbroath. 

Soon after this, the party went to Aberdeen, and, after 
visiting the University, the Cathedral, and other places of 
public interest, Mr. Dunbar rode to the house where his 
family resided at the time he left them on his first coming 
to America. The same name was on the door-plate, but 
it was that of a stranger, who had never heard of their 
visitor. Thus our homes remain, when we pass aw^ay, 
to those who come after, — teaching a lesson of human 
frailty. The places here that knew the meek one whose 



260 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

spirit seemed to pervade these scenes, know her no more. 
Wearied with the changes of earth, she had found a house 
not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. 

While in Aberdeen, Mr. Dunbar called at the dwelling 
of old and valued friends, not knowing whether either of 
them was living. When a servant opened the door, his voice 
was heard by Mrs. McA., who, with a friend, was in the 
parlor. She exclaimed, " That is Mr. Dunbar, from 
America. I know his voice, though I have not heard 
it for twenty-three years ! " Thus are the voices as well 
as the faces of those we love treasured up in the cham- 
bers of memory. 

When they reached Grantown, his native place in the 
Highlands, Mr. Dunbar engaged rooms at the principal 
hotel, — his relatives being all gone, — taking special pains 
to secure the " Queen's Room " for the ladies ; who, how- 
ever, were too thoroughly republican to rest any better on 
the pillow T s because a royal head had pressed them. It 
seems that Her Majesty, when travelling in Scotland, had 
sent forward messengers to en£aoe rooms where she mioht 
rest incognito, and save herself the weariness of being 
stared at and publicly honored. When she reached Gran- 
town, of course the people at the hotel knew by the length 
of her train that she w T as a noble lady ; but they had not 
a suspicion of the great honor being done to their house. 

When her private table was spread, a waiting-girl pre- 
sented herself, but the Queen informed her that she 
preferred being served by her own attendants. This 
touched the pride of the Highland lass, and, her spirit 
rising above her position, she replied tartly, " Oh, 
ay ; but I've served finer leddies nor ye, mony a 
time." 

When the Queen was leaving, her munificence in 



PETER GRANT. 261 

settling the bill and feeing the servants revealed her 
rank. And then the poor, proud lass was terror-stricken, 
lest she might be beheaded, or otherwise put out of exist- 
ence, for her impertinence. 

It was Saturday evening when Mr. Dunbar's party ar- 
rived at Grantown, and a messenger was at once de- 
spatched to the aged and honored Rev. Peter Grant, to 
say that a gentleman and two ladies wished to see him at 
the hotel. He had given up the manse by the church, to 
his son, the associate pastor, and had moved a little way 
out of the town. He, however, walked the mile, and pre- 
sented himself before the strangers. His eye was dimmed 
by the flight of more than eighty years, and twenty-three 
had passed since last he had seen the friend of his youth. It 
was not, therefore, strange, that he did not at first recog- 
nize Mr. Dunbar, who tried for some time to make him 
recall the face and voice. But in vain. At length, he 
asked, " Have you received any papers from America, 
lately?" At the word, " America," his eye kindled, and 
he exclaimed, u Oh, ay ; but it's very wonderful ! " And 
then the two embraced, and kissed each other. 

After reviewing the past, with its long line of dead, and 
the present, with its sorrows and its joys, ancf talking over 
many topics of interest to themselves alone, they came to 
speak of their families, when Mr. Grant stated that he had 
ten children ! Mr. Dunbar could boast of only seven. 
And again Mr. Grant was in the ascendant, for he had 
forty grandchildren ; Mr. Dunbar had only twenty-three. 
Then, as a crowning glory, Mr. Grant told them that he 
had one great-grandchild ! It was the turn of Mr. Dun- 
bar now to triumph over him, as he had three little lambs 
of the fourth generation in his home over the sea. 

This patriarch of Grantown is a dear, lovable old man, 



262 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

on whose calm face is written, " Peace and good-will to 
men." This meeting, so near life's sunset, gave real 
pleasure to them both. Mr. William Grant being ab- 
sent, his father was to preach at home, and gladly availed 
himself of Mr. Dunbar's help. At twelve o'clock, the first 
service commenced, which was in English, and which 
the visitor conducted. Following this, without any inter- 
mission, came a discourse to the older people in Gaelic, and 
immediately after this, the Lord's Supper, concluding at 
four in the afternoon. Then, again, in the evening, was 
a service from six to eight o'clock. How would the im- 
petuous spirit, which complains of forty-minute sermons 
and ninety-minute services with us, brook this " dwelling 
in the house of the Lord ? " We fear the Sabbath would 
be more a weariness than a delight, as it seems to be with 
the godly Scot. 

Extreme fatigue prevented Mr. Dunbar's companions 
from attending the services during the day ; but at six 
o'clock they rode to the church, and found that the cor- 
dial soul-welcome given to the servant of God, was, for his 
sake, extended to them. Casting away all the hollow 
forms of etiquette, the brethren and sisters pressed around 
them, shaking hands, and speaking words of kindness, — 
a fresh and touching scene in a world so full of formality 
and coldness. From the oldest women, — two or three 
of whom, having outlived their own generation, wore full- 
bordered caps, without bonnets, — down to the very 
youngest, all gave these Americans a greeting they will 
not soon forget. Nor were they overlooked by the male 
portion of the congregation, but received from them all, 
at the church-door, the hand of welcome. 

On Monday morning, the door of the private par- 
lor at the hotel was thrown open, and an old woman 



SABBATH SERVICES. 263 

ushered in, who wished to speak to them. She proved to 
be one of the aged sisters they had seen at church, in the 
broad-frilled caps. She said she had come to shake hands 
with Mr. Dunbar and the ladies again, and to tell him 
how much she had been comforted by his preaching. She 
was poor, and nearly blind ; and she had hesitated some 
time before coming, because, she "knew very well they 
would have so many visitors of a different class." She 
gave the ladies two little, half-worn hymn-books as keep- 
sakes ; but it was with the greatest difficulty they could 
induce her to accept a little silver as a token of remem- 
brance. She seemed very grateful for the kind w r ords 
given her ; and asked them if, when they were writing 
from America to the minister, they u would please to send 
their compliments to Margaret Grant." And we know 
this humble request was not forgotten by him whose 
heart was open to the weakest and humblest of God's chil- 
dren. Her wish was gratified ; she was remembered over 
the sea. 

While visiting at the manse, where were gathered sev- 
eral of the aged minister's children and grandchildren, a 
daughter referred to one of Mr. Dunbar's former visits, 
which was attended with a great blessing to the little 
church. She was at the time quite careless about her soul, 
and felt no little opposition to the work of grace then go- 
ing on ; so that when she saw her sister take a seat at the 
Lord's table she felt real anger and enmity toward her. 
Mr. Dunbar rose at the moment and gave out a hymn, and 
her attention was arrested by the first line. Every word 
in the sermon seemed an arrow pointed at her. At the 
close of the service, one of the brethren of the church 
asked her if she was not one of the class alluded to — im- 
penitent sinners. This simple question served to deepen 



264 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

the impression, which was so powerful that she shook and 
trembled until she thought all eyes were fixed on her. 
Her brother William was affected in the same way, though 
neither mentioned it to the other. The result was that 
both of them were brought at that time, with many others, 
into the fold of Christ. 

Mr. Dunbar's party with their friends, visited Castle 
Grant, around which in his mind clustered so many recol- 
lections of boyhood, with its wild joys and its hairbreadth es- 
capes. After entering the gateway they rode through the 
beautiful and well-stocked deer-park to the castle, which, 
however, seemed to the Americans more like a large man- 
sion-house, having neither turret nor tower, and lacking 
the grandeur we attach to the idea of a castle. They en- 
tered first the armory, the wall and ceiling of which 
were covered with coats of mail, shields, swords, pikes, &c, 
all artistically arranged, with which the Grants of long- 
ago defended themselves and their castles from the invasion 
of rival clans. 

A stuffed fox, with that wily look which belongs of right 
to the race, stood at the entrance ; and hollow coats of mail, 
hanging around, seemed like grim sentinels guarding the 
descendants of their liege lords of generations gone by. Go- 
ing up the stairway, pictures of Scripture and warlike 
scenes, and portraits of Grants innumerable met the eye. 
The rooms were remarkable for their size and ancient ap- 
pearance more than for their magnificence, the arrange- 
ments being suggestive of comfort rather than of display. 
There were chairs covered with close worsted work, and 
high bedsteads draped with curtains of the same ; and a 
large carpet in wrought medallion pattern ; — much of this 
the work of the fair fingers of the ladies of this long line 
of Grants. But the flight of years has dimmed the colors, 



THE LAIRD OF DALVEY. 265 

as it has also the eyes of those who once hung delighted 
over it. 

They visited what is called the " haunted room." 
A former Laird of Grant once occupied this as his own 
apartment, but on one occasion, the house being full, it was 
given over to a guest. A tame deer, which was a great 
pet with the laird, and which was allowed free access to 
his room, stole in during the night and made his way to 
the bedside, arousing the sleeper, who, putting forth his 
hands, felt the horns. These appendages were suggest- 
ive of any but a welcome visitor, and the alarm they 
caused and the mirth incident upon it gave its name to 
the chamber. 

The room of the little lord, then absent with his parents, 
interested them much, pervaded as it seemed to be with 
the sweet presence of innocence. Child -life is the same 
essentially everywhere. The things which amuse the prat- 
tler of the cottage charm also the pet of the castle. Pic- 
tures cut from illustrated papers were on the walls just as 
he left them, and all around were treasured trifles that 
proved how little is required to make a child rich and hap- 
py. To one who loved the young, as did Mr. Dunbar, 
these were very touching, and we doubt not, as he looked 
back on the child's ancestry and remembered their many 
noble traits, he blessed his tiny lordship, who would all too 
soon forsake this pleasant nursery for the cares and temp- 
tations incident to his rank in life. 

From Grantown Mr. Dunbar went to Forres, to visit 
valued and honored friends there. This town is beauti- 
fully situated on a natural mound so regular as to look al- 
most as if thrown up by art. A fine ride brought them to 
the estate of the Laird of Dalvey, where they were most 
cordially received and hospitably entertained. The place 

23 



266 DUNCAN DUNBAR. * 

is a Scottish paradise, which seems to have quite ^escaped the 
ruin Adam brought on nature's glory. The grounds are 
laid out in " ribbon beds," with flowers of every hue and 
variety. One large hot-house was devoted entirely to fuch- 
sias, which hung from the glass above and around, like 
grapes from the vine, and which the genial laird bestowed 
with a lavish hand on his delighted guests. 

The museum on the estate is filled with rare and beau- 
tiful things from every land. From the centre of a pond 
filled with every variety of lily, rises a pagoda in which 
several families of ducks find shelter when weary of 
their sports in the water. One of these ducks was a 
South Carolinian, which sat on the little island, hanging her 
head very mournfully, the laird said, because she had 
just become a widow. But the American ladies knew a 
better cause than that, and believed it was for very shame 
at the conduct of her native State ! 

Here in a cage as large as a summer-house was a huge 
American eagle screeching out his plea for his country and 
his faith in her triumph, in the ears of the kind-hearted 
laird. There was an ominous contrast between his proud 
confidence, and the cowed humility of the duck of the 
" chivalry." 

The charms of Dalvey House, and the kindness of its 
owner, will ever be held in grateful remembrance by those 
of the party who still live. 

At Elgin, after visiting the family of a dear, deceased 
friend of other days, — Mr. Peter McDonald, — Mr. Dun- 
bar took his companions to the ruins of the cathedral, the 
most stupendous in Scotland, around which clusters much 
of tradition and interest. 

Thence they went to the beautiful city of Inverness, the 
former home of Captain Mcintosh, where they passed 



^TOUR OF THE CALEDONIAN CANAL. 267 

several days. Its natural charms are very great, the waters 
of Loch Ness flowing through it, bordered on either side 
by grounds like those of fairy-land, these being connected 
by tasteful little extension bridges. Here rise, beyond the 
loch, the mountains of Craig Phadrich and Tom na 
heurich, or the " Hill of the Fairies." 

The party made the tour of the Caledonian Canal, 
which connects the five lakes, forming a water passage of 
sixty miles from the German to the Atlantic Oceans, by 
the noted mountains of Ben Nevis, Ben More, Ben Crua- 
chan, and Cairngorm. Stopping at Oban, they took a 
fine steamer through the Sound of Mull to the wondrous 
Cave of Staffa, passing the ruins of many churches and 
castles, powerful and grand in times long gone by. Leav- 
ing the sound, the conflicting channels made the waves 
more boisterous than they were at any time on the pas- 
sage over the Atlantic ; so it was impossible to reach 
the cave in the steamer. Taking small boats, they ap- 
proached it by the back mouth, the waves as they thought 
forbidding any attempt to reach the main entrance. The 
vigorous among the tourists — there was quite a large par- 
ty — clambered around the sides of the cave on the rugged 
blocks of stone, holding by a rope fixed there for the pur- 
pose, and thus made their way to the front. For this ex- 
ploit, however, all had not strength ; and Mr. Dunbar, 
unwilling to deny the pleasure to any one, bribed the boat- 
men to brave the billows and meet the others at the main 
entrance. Though repeatedly driven back after having 
nearly reached it, they were at last rewarded for their per- 
severance by a full view of this stupendous work of na- 
ture. 

On their return to Oban, the tourists stopped at the 
famous island of Iona, — " The Holy Isle," — in the early 



268 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

ages a seat of sacred learning, and saw the ruins of the 
cathedral and abbey. The next day they passed through 
the Sound of Jura, the Crinan Canal, Loch Tyne, and 
the Frith of Clyde, to Glasgow. Here a week was passed 
visiting places of interest; and here Mr. Dunbar renewed 
and enjoyed again old friendships" and tender recollections. 

From Glasgow they made the tour of the Trosachs, 
passing scenes immortalized by Scott in " Rob Roy " and 
" The Lady of the Lake," visited Sterling and Dumbarton 
Castle and returned to Edinburgh in about six weeks from 
the time they left it for the North. Here they went to 
the Castles, where is still exhibited the regalia of Scotland, 
■ — the crown, the sceptre, and the sword of state. 

When here, a quarter of a century before, Mr. Dunbar 
had visited and preached for Mr. Haldane. He was now 
gone from earth ; but his pulpit was filled by Rev. Mr. 
Tulloch, the son and also the son-in-law of men whom 
Mr. Dunbar had known and loved in the early days of 
his ministry. For him he preached, or, as he still said, 
" talked a little." Every step he had taken in Scotland 
had served to brighten the old flame of love, and to 
strengthen the desire for the advancement of the Baptist- 
cause in Scotland. Still he was " ready for either," to go 
there and toil, or to stay in America, and cheer on those 
who did so. He felt the scattered materials in all the 
small places too valuable to be lost, and still believed that 
they would become a strong denomination, if they could 
but yield their minor differences, and come together on a 
common scriptural platform. 

From Edinburg, Mr. Dunbar and his companions went 
to York, where they visited the Minster, the finest speci- 
men of Gothic architecture in Europe, and afterward to 
London, where they spent several weeks enjoying the 



EXTRACTS OF LETTERS. 269 

wonders of art, seeing places of historic interest, and 
listening to ministers whose names are familiar to us in 
America. 

Writing from London, Mr. Dunbar says : — 
" I cannot feel thankful enough that there are yet so 
many left on earth to care for and love me. I never real- 
ized this before as I have done in reading the letters re- 
ceived from each of you, my own dear, dear daughters. 
May the Lord spare and dispose all your own children 
to return you the like kindness in your own days of lone- 
liness and old age ! God bless you all ! " 

Again, in a joint letter to two sons-in-law, he writes 
from the same place : — 

" Dear J. and G., I hate to speak of myself; but must 
say to the praise of the divine goodness, that I feel my 
health wonderfully improved by the climate and the rest I 
am having. I have my cares, especially about dear M. and 
the church ; but all these and the interests of my own soul 
I can now and then — only now and then — cast upon 
Him who has done such great things for me and mine 
ever since I have had a being on his footstool. I must 
say here, that I shall ever retain a grateful sense of your 
kindness first and last to me and mine, — the living and the 
beloved dead. We often speak of you since we left home, 
— I mean since we left New York ; for I have no home 
now, — I only ' live out.' The Lord reward you both, 
and the children you took away from me! 

" Divide this letter among yourselves in the two fami- 
lies, and believe me your affectionate father." 

Prom England the little party went to France. While 
attending the ladies to places which most interested them 
m Paris, Mr. Dunbar's own tastes led him to examine the 

23* 



270 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

city with the great public works then in progress, that he 
might know what Napoleon was doing for his people. He 
was pained at the perfectly Sabbathless appearance of the 
city on the Lord's day, — fhe open stores, the rumbling 
teams, and the sounding hammer proving it a perfectly 
godless place. He expressed great surprise when he looked 
in, on a week-day, to the Catholic churches, to see the con- 
gregations composed almost entirely of femalas, — there 
being but one or two men to a hundred women, and these 
oftener there as beggars than as worshippers. He spent no 
holy time in viewing magnificent architecture, or in listen- 
ing to artistic music and popish mummeries, but made his 
Sabbaths, as at home, holiness unto the Lord. He heard 
and preached for Dr. McClintock, at the American 
Chapel. 

He did not enjoy his sojourn in France as he had done 
that in England and Scotland ; as, being a stranger to 
their language, he could not enlighten the subjects of 
Napoleon on the great interests at issue in the American 
struggle. Neither could he find much sympathy among 
our agreeable and courteous countrymen whom he met at 
his hotel ; for they were all bitter foes to the Union, al- 
though not warm enough friends to the Confederacy to 
stay at home and aid her in the conflict. 

The party, after spending a few weeks in Paris, re- 
turned to London, whence, after a few days, they took 
the steamer for New York, having been absent nearly 
five months. 

The third night out, which was that of Thanksgiving 
at home, the ship was struck by a tremendous gale, and 
went over at once on to her side. A mast was twisted 
off like a twig, and its weight seemed bearing her down 
to destruction. The confusion on deck, with the running 



A GALE AT SEA. 271 

and shouting and sawing, together with the shrieks of the 
passengers, who rushed about half-clad in the darkness, 
made the scene truly terrific. The bulwarks were car- 
ried away, and the ship's side was stove in by the falling 
mast, so that the water was rushing into the steerage, cre- 
ating great terror among the poor emigrants crowded to- 
gether there. There were two Catholic priests on board, 
— one in the steerage, and one in the cabin ; and this 
alarm gave them plenty of business. In the midst of the 
confusion, one of these arrayed himself in his canonicals 
and went down to u confess " the frantic creatures, who be- 
lieved their last hour had come. One poor girl, who was 
on her way to a new home with an aged father, became 
perfectly distracted, and remained a maniac as long as her 
fellow-passengers kept sight of her, — a sad ending of 
bright hopes. 

At the first alarm, and before Mr. Dunbar had left his 
berth, a strong man, who had, before this, seemed to have 
little fear of God before him, rushed into his state-room 
and implored him to rise and pray for him. Others, who 
had more self-control, were as glad to listen to his words 
of comfort and encouragement. When he could disen- 
gage himself from them, he went to his companions to let 
them know the extent of the damage, and to urge them — 
had it been necessary — to be calm. Then ladies from the 
next state-rooms ran in ; and he, in perfect composure, led 
their. minds to Him who is the only refuge in time of peril. 

This gale continued five days ; the ship, being somewhat 
disabled, laboring terribly to mount the billows, and the 
water at times threatening to put out the fires. All 
through these days, Mr. Dunbar's little Bible was his 
constant companion ; and, as he read, he marked many 
passages referring to the sea and its dangers, and to God's 



272 DUNCAN DUNBAR, 

care of those who upon its troubled waves, put their trust 
in him. 

When it became calm again, and the immediate fear 
was over, those who had manifested such alarm and 
begged for prayers, and had followed the godly man about 
as if safe in his shadow, became very brave. One of 
these, seeing the Bible alluded to lying on the cabin table, 4 
took it up, and, turning over the leaves, saw the marked 
passages, when he said, jestingly, " Some folks were 
pretty well frightened in the gale, I should think, by the 
way they marked up this book ! " 

And yet he was glad, on that night of fear, to catch 
the tones of a praying voice, and to grasp the mantle of 
a man of God! 

The voyage was protracted to sixteen days by the bois- 
terous weather and the condition of the ship ; and, much 
as Mr. Dunbar loved the sea, he was rejoiced once more 
to reach home and greet his family and his beloved peo- 
ple. Invigorated by the rest he had enjoyed, he at once 
entered fully into the work he loved, not as an old man 
rousing himself to a final effort, but with the energy of 
one just putting his hand to the plough. 

Amid all the changes and enjoyments of his absence, he 
did not forget the poor pensioners he left behind. Just as 
he was leaving his home for the steamer, a forlorn stranger 
had called to beg for his interference to save her from im- 
prisonment, — unjust, according to her statement: It 
was his last hour at home, and he could only commend 
her to some other merciful man for help and pity. 

Almost the first word he uttered, on again entering his 
own room after the voyage, was to his nephew, " Well, 
Willie, what became of my poor client. Were you able to 
keep her out of prison ? " 



GROWING MEET FOR HEAVEN. 273 

One of his sons-in-law said to him at this time, " Why, 
father, you do not look a day older than when yon left." 

" My son, I did not go to Scotland to grow older" he 
replied with a smile. 

Soon after his return, he visited his children in Massa- 
chusetts. Not one of his grand-children had been forgot- 
ten in his travels, but each had a little keepsake from 
over the sea. No trouble was too great, if thereby he 
could make young hearts happy. Long and vainly will 
they look for another such friend to sympathize in their 
feelings, and to meet their childish wants, as if he himself 
had never grown old. 

He performed all his labor through the following win- 
ter and spring with his usual energy, only that he occa- 
sionally complained of weariness, and was more willing 
than formerly to lie down during the day for rest. Those 
beneath the same roof with him, who were wakeful in 
the small hours of morning, heard from his study his 
strong cries unto God. Shortly before his prayers on 
earth were changed for praise in heaven, did the dear 
friend, in whose dwelling the mortal put on immortality, 
hear his voice breaking the stillness of night with plead- 
ing and groanings which could not be suppressed. Who 
shall know the burden of those prayers, which now are 
ended ? The country that he loved, the church so dear 
to him, the children of his heart, the poor, the sick, the 
dying, the souls yet in sin, for whom he must, in a meas- 
ure, give account, — all were then, doubtless, borne upward 
on the wings of his faith. Who will now love these as he 
loved ? who pray for them as he prayed ? and who, in 
their hours of darkness, prevail as he prevailed ? God 
help the weak, when the strong staff and the beautiful rod 
is broken ! 



CHAPTER XXVII. 



Attends the Missionary Meetings in Philadelphia — A Silver Wedding — A Visit to Yon- 
kers — Increase of Labor — A Last Parting. 



;N May following Mr. Dunbar's return from Europe, 
he attended the anniversaries of the Missionary Union 
and other societies in Philadelphia. He was then in 
his usual health, and enjoyed greatly the reunion 
with his beloved ministering brethren, and also with 
the members of his former flock. Even here, per- 
sonal ease and gratification were forgotten ; and, to the 
disappointment of many who were hoping for a share of his 
company in their homes, he assumed work when he should 
have given himself up to rest. At the earnest solicitation 
of friends he went to Allentown, Pennsylvania, to preach 
for and encourage a little church in which, from its organ- 
ization, — truly a day of small things — he had been 
greatly interested. He also preached for his grandson, 
Rev. Morris Sutphen, of the Spring Garden Presbyterian 
Church, in whose pulpit his genial spirit and sound 
orthodoxy always found a welcome. Here he labored 
and enjoyed not a little; and after visiting and blessing 
his three little great-grandchildren, he returned to his 
home where there was work awaiting him enough to try 
the powers of one just putting on the harness. It might 
seem as if the toils of nearly four score years had won for 
him the right to rest ; but he neither asked nor desired it. 
As the season advanced his labor at sick-beds and fu 

(274) 



A SILVER WEDDING. 275 

nerals increased, the larger portion of it being beyond the 
bounds of his own congregation. One Sabbath he preached 
twice, and at six o'clock in the afternoon attended a funer- 
al a long; distance from his home. As he entered the house 
of mourning, he was told that another dear child of the 
family was very ill with the sad disease which had laid this 
one in its coffin — diphtheria. After the solemn services, 
he hastened home to tea, and thence to his evening meeting, 
which he conducted, as was his custom, with remarks and 
exhortations, longer than the sermons of our younger min- 
isters, — work enough, one would think, for a single day ! 
But hardly was he seated for rest in his study, after his re- 
turn from the vestry, than he was again sent for. The other 
child of that stricken family had died, and they desired 
to have its funeral at ten o'clock at night, that the two lit- 
tle forms might be taken away together by an early morn- 
ing train for burial at a distance. He was at this time also 
a constant visitor at the sick-beds of several strangers. 
All this he accepted as a part of his ministry, which was, 
in his view, to men and not to one particular church only. 

About this time, Mr. Dunbar was sent for to attend a 
silver wedding given by the Reformed Dutch Church of 
Bedminster, New Jersey, to Rev. William Brush, their 
pastor and his son-in-law. Thither he went full of spirit, 
and found himself surrounded by a beloved circle of chil- 
dren, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. The richly 
laden tables were tastefully spread on the lawn in front of 
the beautiful parsonage, with the skill as well as pro- 
fuseness in which the ladies of that region excel. 

When the out-door entertainment was over, the host of 
friends, who had gathered to congratulate their pastor on 
God's mercy to him and his family, passed into the parlors, 
where was spread out, in glittering array, the silver-plate, 



276 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

with other rich and beautiful things they had brought, to 
show that his work was appreciated among them. After 
some preliminaries, Mr. Dunbar was called on for a speech. 
Of this we can give no minute sketch. He said, " This is 
a silver wedding, friends, which I presume means that your 
pastor has invited us all here that he may present each of us, 
his guests, with a piece of silver ! He then told them that 
many years ago, wdien visiting at a friend's house with his 
eldest daughter, he met a young student from Rutger's 
Seminary, who conceived a great attachment for him. He 
soon called on him to borrow a theological book, which he 
read in an inconceivably short space of time and brought 
back ! At this visit he asked the loan of another work 
from Mr. Dunbar's library, which in its turn was read in 
a wonderfully short space of time, and exchanged for 
another ! And thus his books went and came, until he 
began strongly to suspect they were never read at all ! 
And soon the young man ceased to be satisfied with his 
books, and wanted his daughter ! That young man, he 
told them, was now their pastor, and the rest they knew. 
Mr. Dunbar, by his cheerfulness and pleasantry, made 
himself the charm of the hour ; but this opportunity, like 
all others which came in his way, was seized on to impress 
on the minds of old and young their obligations to God 
for temporal and spiritual good, and their solemn rela- 
tions to him. With Mr. Dunbar, an innocent merry-mak- 
ing was always turned to as good account for the benefit 
of others as was any solemn event. He never forced 
religion rudely forward on any occasion ; but brought it in 
gently and with such a charm as made it always seem nat- 
ural ; and thus was his Master welcomed and honored in 
many a place, where, with another's introduction, he 
might have been thrust out without a hearing. 



CHARACTERISTICS. 277 

One of his daughters visited him about this time, and 
he greatly enjoyed talking with her of his voyage and his 
travels abroad ; but more particularly of the beloved dead 
whose memory, ever precious, w^as brought up anew at 
the family meetings, where their presence was so sadly 
missed. His time was now much broken up by applica- 
tions for help of all kinds, and he requested her to make 
several calls for him on family friends, and also on some 
of the sick, to explain the reason of his not coming. He 
was greatly troubled by hearing, on his return from 
Philadelphia, that his dear friend and efficient helper, Dea- 
con G., was ill, and he could not wait till his leisure came, 
to learn that he was better. Never will his messenger for- 
get the gratitude expressed in his countenance, when told 
that this good man was restored to his usual health. That 
gratitude extended to the one who brought the news, and 
he thanked her again and again for thus relieving his mind. 

This daughter accompanied him on Sabbath evening 
down to his meeting. His theme was Heaven ; and his 
own remarks and prayers, as well as those of the brethren, 
were fervent and impressive. Mr. Dunbar gave out and 
joined in singing that beautiful hymn appreciated only by 
those who, having given themselves to God, are longing for 
the time when they may serve him perfectly day and night 
in his temple : — 

"We speak of the realms of the blest, — 
That country so bright and so fair, — 
And oft are its glories confessed ; 
But what must it be to be there ? " 

At the close of the service, the flock gathered as usual 
around the desk ; for we believe no one was wont to leave 

24 



278 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

the McDougal Street vestry in those days without taking 
the hand of the pastor ; — like a scattered family meeting at 
night around their father, each to recount his progress 
through the day, and to learn of the prosperity or the 
trials of the others. 

On leaving the place and walking homeward, Mr. Dun- 
bar remarked, u This is a long walk for an old man like 
me ; but that is all ; I am as comfortable as I can be ; they 
are all so kind and attentive to me." 

" He now complained often of being tired, and would 
frequently say, " I am getting to be an old man," — a new 
admission for him. When going to lie down in the day for 
rest, he still always requested to be spoken to when any one 
called for him. Often he would be disturbed two or three 
times by the door-bell before he could find an hour for 
sleep. 

There were no idle moments in those few remaining 
days of his blessed life. 

He went up the Hudson, about this time, to meet a little 
party of children and grandchildren at Yonkers, and there 
seemed as youthful in spirit as ever, entering heartily into 
the amusements enjoyed with such a keen relish by the 
young. At the table, where was gathered a little social 
party, he interested them there by relating incidents in 
his early ministry, proving how certainly God will aid 
those, however weak and feeble, who resolve to establish 
churches to his glory, proving his statements by referring 
to the Eastport and South Berwick (Me.) churches, and 
also many others where men and women resolved to make 
personal sacrifice for Christ's sake. He also gave some 
accounts of great revivals in the past, particularly the 
one in Nobleboro', mentioned in the preceding pages. 

At table he asked pleasantly of the pastor of the Yon- 



VISIT TO YONKERS. 279 

kers Church, who was present, " Brother C, are my chil- 
dren here kind to you?" and, on being answered to his 
satisfaction, he smiled, and said, " That is right. If ever 
the time comes when they are not so, you must come 
down to the city and let me know, and I shall come up 
and see to them. Ministers' children know the trials of a 
minister, and of all others they should be good parish- 
ioners." 

And once again in a few weeks he repeated this visit 
for a change and rest. The weather was exceedingly hot, 
and he was urged to remain at least one day longer ; but 
he could not be prevailed upon, as " his hands were so full." 
He visited the families of Mr. Stuart, Mr. Trevor, and 
Mr. Jacob Hays, all of whom were then or had been 
members of his church in McDougal Street. The mother 
of Mr. Hays, a friend long and highly esteemed by Mr. 
Dunbar, was at the time very ill, and he expressed great 
fears that if he did not go then he might never see 
her again in life. Well was it that he pursued his own 
way and made these visits ; for they were the last to those 
dear friends, who for so many years had welcomed him 
to their homes with cordial and affectionate hospitality. 

When Mr. Dunbar's children, who had been visiting in 
New York, left for New England with a little family party, 
he met them at the Boston boat some time before the hour 
for sailing, and sat with them on the deck, talking in his 
most sprightly and entertaining manner. Never did he seem 
more full of life and energy than when he there spoke of his 
projected visit to them, and sent messages ot love to those 
at their homes. But the victor's race was almost run, and 
the crown, unseen by our poor vision, was even then de- 
scending on him, — so soon to become a king and a priest 
unto God. 



280 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

This parting was not in gloom or in tears, dearly as this 
father was loved by his children ; for they did not realize, 
that his age, added to all the other uncertainties of life, made 
another meeting on earth doubtful. It was only regarded 
as saying " good-by " for a few weeks, until his summer's 
vacation should give him time to visit them, and u to grow 
young again in the bracing air of New England." 

But for them there was to be no meeting again, until 
the one in that home where they shall go no more out for- 
ever and where : — 

" They who have safely gone before, 
Whose feet grow weary never more, 
.Receive in that dear land of bliss 
All their souls panted for in this ; 
And their enjoyment ours shall be 
When we have crossed the crystal sea." 

Amid the waves and storms that for six months beat 
around the frail u Halifax Packet," when wreck and star- 
vation seemed vying with each other for the prey, there 
rode another bark, bound for the same port. In the 
first was the man of God in his early strength, girded for 
the strife, panting for victory in his Master's cause, and 
unwearied in his efforts to win over his foes ; on the other 
a young sailor-boy, regardless of his eternal interests, and 
anxious only to escape the dangers of the sea, and to reach 
the desired haven. The same gale may have filled their 
sails, the same waves washed their vessels' sides in the 
darkness ; but they did not see each other's faces then. 
Long years after this, however, they met as pastor and 
hearer in McDougal Street, and a strong personal friend- 
ship grew up between them. 

Years ago, when Mr. Dunbar's family were about him, 
he was at the house of this friend, Mr. George H. Irwin, 



VISIT TO YONKERS. 281 

with Mrs. Dunbar, at a social visit. He made some remark 
on the large hospitality of his house, and said, in his pe- 
culiar manner when in pleasantry, " When I have no 
home of my own I shall know where to come." Mr. 
Irwin replied, " If that time ever comes, you shall have 
a home here, Mr. Dunbar." Neither of them dreamed 
that the contract thus playfully made would ever be ful- 
filled ; but, long after this, when Mr. Dunbar sought 
permanency elsewhere in vain, this door was open to him ; 
and here he found a home in place of the one death had 
destroyed. 

For a few short months these kind friends ministered to 
his wants, and bore patiently with the poor, the sorrowful, 
and the erring who came seeking their un wearying 
helper ; and then the angel of death visited their dwell- 
ing, clothed in no terror, and bore him away to the joys 
of his Lord. No strange hands were allowed to minister 
to his wants ; no harsh sounds to break upon his ear ; but 
everything that love and kindness could do was done to 
save his life and to soothe his departing spirit. The grati- 
tude of afflicted children and of a bereaved church will 
ever be theirs, and the prayer that they in their old age and 
dying hours may be cheered by the same tenderness which 
they manifested toward this beloved and honored servant 
of God. 

24* 




CHAPTER XXVIII. 

His Last Sabbath — Illness — Only Christ — Anxiety for the Church and the Country — 
A Blessed Visit — Setting his House in Order — The Valley made Light — Visions 
of Glory — Safe at Home — Funeral and Burial — Funeral Sermon. 

/N Sabbath, July 16, Mr. Dunbar preached as usual 
to his own people. In the morning his text was 
Psalms xxxvii. 3 : " Trust in the Lord and do 
good ; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily 
thou shalt be fed ; " and in the afternoon, the last 
clause of the 10th verse of the 81st Psalm : " Open 
thy mouth, and I will fill it." He spoke with his ac- 
customed vigor, and most impressively ; a dear friend say- 
ing as she walked home, " If I should never again hear 
Mr. Dunbar preach, I shall remember what I have heard 
to-day through life." 

On Monday night he was attacked with dysentery, ac- 
companied by faintness, and not being better the next day, 
his daughter living in Jersey City, was sent for ; the 
youngest one being at the time absent from him on a visit. 
She found him suffering very severely, but patient, submis- 
sive, and resigned to God's will. 

" All Monday night," she writes, u I, with our kind 
friend, Miss L., watched with him. He never for one mo- 
ment slept, but prayed incessantly for patience and strength 
to bear all that might be laid upon him. 

For three days and nights his sufferings were extreme : 
he was nervous and much excited, so that it was very dif- 

(282) 



LAST ILLNESS. 283 

ficult to keep him quiet. He once said " Oh, I wish I had 
all my children about me ! " It was proposed to send at once 
for them ; but he replied, " not yet : I do not like to give 
them a false alarm." 

Everything that affectionate daughters and sons, physi- 
cians and friends could do, was done for him ; and on Fri- 
day the 21st, he seemed improving, but said to his son-in- 
law, Rev. Mr. Parmly, "Sometimes I think I shall never 
preach again, and it becomes a solemn thought whether I 
have done my whole duty and am accepted in Christ ! O 
my son, preach Christ ! None but Jesus can do helpless 
sinners good." On Saturday he continued better. On 
Sunday, in her efforts to keep him quiet, his daughter asked 
if she should read aloud. " No," he said, " my brain is too 
restless." Then she asked, "May I repeat some of your 
favorite hymns ? " 

" Yes," he replied, " say your dear mother's hymn : - — 

* Ye angels who stand round the throne — ' " 

adding, with deep feeling, — 

" ' I want to put on my attire, 
Washed white in the blood of the Lamb/ 

You and dear Mrs. I. think I ought to keep still ; but 
since I have been lying here, suffering in the body, I have 
had such views of eternity, such a sense of my sinfulness ! 
My whole life appears now one continued scene of rebel- 
lion against God ! How solemn to appear before the Judge 
of the whole earth ! But my sins are not laid to my own 
charge ! The blessed Redeemer stands between the naked 
sinner and his offended God." 

Then he began to plead with Christ that he would in- 
tercede for him with the Father. 

His daughter said, " Father, it must now be a great 



284 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

comfort to you that you have brought so many souls, in- 
strumentally, to Christ, and comforted and encouraged so 
many fainting saints." " Oh," he cried, u that is nothing ! 

' Knowledge alas, 'tis all in vain, 
And all in vain our fears, 

If love be wanting there/ " 

These remarks were not made as if he doubted his in- 
terest in Christ ; but rather to show how fully he trusted 
in his blood alone, aside from all works. The one sacri- 
fice for sin, which he had so long preached to others, was 
now his own sole and perfect reliance. 

As the hour for the prayer-meeting drew near, he said, 
" See, my dear, who of the family are going to-night. 1 — 1 
cannot ; but oh, if God would only permit me once more 
to stand before that dear people, I would talk to them as I 
never talked before ! Oh, how I would lament my past 

1 So important for the life of the church did Mr. Dunbar always consider 
a regular attendance of the members on the devotional meetings, that in 
one of the Association letters, he asks the body to decide the question, 
" What course shall churches pursue toward those of their members who, 
living convenient to the place of worship, and being in perfect health, 
habitually absent themselves from prayer-meetings, shun the society of their 
Christian brethren, and choose that of the world ? " 

The following year, in accounting' for a large number of exclusions, 
the letter states that the fellowship of the church was withdrawn, in nearly 
all these cases, for absence from the prayer-meeting and, for refusing, when 
perfectly able to do it, to aid in sustaining the ordinances of God's house. 

In the year 1847, Mr. Dunbar's people were able to make the following 
statement in their associational letter, comforting indeed to one whose views 
of discipline were as rigid as his : " No case of discipline has called for the 
action of this church since we last addressed your respected body and for 
months before, except one — the exclusion of a brother residing in a dis- 
tant part of the Union, and of whose conduct we were apprised by the faith- 
fulness of a ministering brother in that region ; and in disposing of this 
case, God graciously bestowed on the whole church, including the immedi- 
ate family of the delinquent, * one heart and one mind. ' n 



LAST ILLNESS. 285 

unfaithfulness, and ask their forgiveness ! Oh that I could 
look on their faces just once more, — the dear friends who 
have been so kind to me all these long years ! 

" If the Lord spares my life, it will be months before I 
can preach again ; but He who has the hearts of all men 
in his hand, will provide for my wants. My dear sons 
and daughters all say I must rest. I will go to Newton 
first, as soon as able. G. and M. will nurse me ; and J. is 
so near. Mary can go with me. How I am blessed ! " 

During these first days of his illness, his mind seemed 
pressed with care about the country and the church. He 
asked every one who came in if there was any news from the 
army, and always inquired who was at the prayer-meeting. 
One evening, one of the young brethren came in after the 
meeting, to watch with him. He asked by name if one 
and another were there ; when answered repeatedly in the 
negative, he drew a heavy sigh, and exclaimed, " Oh, 
why will they not be faithful ! " 

" We were now," writes his daughter, " much encour- 
aged, the physician assuring us that he was still improving ; 
his years and his unwillingness to remain quiet seemed the 
only things against him." 

In the first week of his illness, a young member of his 
church, who watched with him, says, he asked, about day- 
break, u What o'clock is it ? " and being answered, " Five,' 
he repeated those beautiful lines, — 

" Lord, in the morning thou shalt hear 
My voice ascending high ; 
To thee I will direct rny prayer, 
To thee lift up mine eye/' 

He then engaged in prayer most fervently, thanking 
God for the preservation of life during the night, and ask- 
ing that this sickness might not be unto death, but for the 



286 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

glory of God and for the accomplishment of his purposes ; 
but added, " Nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done, 
O Lord." He prayed for the church, that God would 
give the members sound judgment rightly to understand 
the truth and to stand firm in the faith once delivered to 
the saints. He implored God to be with the sick, to com- 
fort the sorrowing, to bless the Sunday school, and to 
bring sinners unto Christ. He plead for the country, whose 
interests ever lay so near his heart, that God would send 
peace, — peace with righteousness, — that we might have a 
proper settlement of our troubles according to God's will ; 
that brother might no longer shed the blood of brother. 
When, nearly exhausted, he exclaimed, " O Lord, I know 
not where to stop, but thou knowest all our wants ; dis- 
play thy power and accomplish thy purposes, for the sake 
of Jesus Christ, thy blessed Son, our blessed Saviour." 

During the same night he said, " James, I have one re- 
quest to make of you. When jou meet with any mem- 
ber of the church whom you believe to be a prayiny mem- 
ber, ask him to pray that this sickness may not be unto 
death, but for the spiritual good of myself and the church ; 
that it may awaken us all to more earnestness in God's 
cause, and more anxiety for impenitent sinners. I should 
like to live a little longer, that I may be enabled to wipe 
off the rust that has been accumulating for years upon me. 
But it may be the Lord is done with my unworthy services, 
and is about to remove me. Perhaps this is best ; ' His 
ways are not our ways, nor his thoughts our thoughts.' ' 

This young friend replied, " Your thoughts are not your 
people's thoughts ; they all think you have been very 
faithful, and do not see how you could possibly have been 
more so." Mr. Dunbar shook his head and smiled, as if 
to say, " that is but the verdict of your affectionate heart." 



LAST ILLNESS. 287 

During these days of weakness and suffering he seemed 
drawn with peculiar affection toward all around him. Every 
ring of the bell excited him, lest some one might go away 
disappointed at not seeing him or at least receiving a mes- 
sage from his lips. A neighboring pastor, beside whom he 
had labored long, and for whom he had great respect and 
affection, called one morning to inquire for him. Pru- 
dence forbade the admission of company into his room ; 
but when he learned that Dr. W. had been and gone with- 
out his knowing it, he was greatly disappointed, and could 
not rest until the kind friend with whom he resided offered 
to go to his house, explain to him that very few were al- 
lowed to go in, but that, had he known who was there 
he should have insisted on seeing him ; and also to 
get the promise of a visit on the following day. Thus 
toward all his friends he felt more love, as the parting 
hour drew on. Another ministering brother, to whom 
Mr. Dunbar was most tenderly attached, called one 
day during his illness, and manifested such an af- 
fectionate interest in all his personal matters as to make 
his visit a great blessing. When he left, Mr. Dunbar said 
to the daughter who was with him, while tears filled his eyes, 
" My dear, the Saviour could not come to me in person 
to-day, so he sent dear brother Osgood to comfort me ! " 

Again it was proposed that all his children should be 
sent for ; but he said, " Wait till I am a little stronger." 
When his youngest daughter returned from Yonkers, 
she was greatly shocked at his appearance and at seeing 
her brother-in-law lift him in his arms, like a child, from 
the bed to the sofa. But w T hen his bed was arranged, 
and he replaced in it, she saw less change than when 
she had first entered his room. He seemed so like 
himself that she wondered she had felt any alarm. He 



288 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

thanked Mr. W. for lifting him so carefully, and speak 
ing to him, but looking at her, said, " When she needs 
a little recreation and country air, you always take her 
away from me ; but the moment I need her you bring her 
back ! " And after that, through the remaining days of 
his illness, he would often reach out his hand to clasp hers, 
repeating over and over again, " O Mary ! O Mary ! 
O Mary ! " When she had been ministering to his 
comfort, he would exclaim, " There is so much for a child 
to do for a father ! " Once, he said to her, " They were 
all as kind to me as they could be, before you came 
back ; but O Mary, I missed mother ! I missed mother ! " 
For a few days he remained much the same, — his 
symptoms not being considered dangerous ; but he 
seemed unnatural much of the time from the effect of 
opiates. When free from them, he talked incessantly, 
one subject following another in quick succession, some- 
times clearly, but again as if the mind were wandering. 
Places and persons at the ends of the earth occupied his 
thoughts, and every one's troubles became his own. He 
worried a great deal about the poor, talked of all the 
societies in which he was engaged, expressing hope that 
minors would be so managed that those for whose benefit 
they were formed might get all the money intended for 
them. The smallest matters became intensified in his 
mind. One day he worried much about the photo- 
graphs of dear friends, — the late Hon. Joseph Taylor 
and wife, — which Mrs. T. had promised him, but which 
he had failed to get by missing her when in Philadelphia. 
He requested his daughter to write at once for them, 
and to ask all the minute particulars of Mr. T.'s sick- 
ness and death, his exact age, and all that he said in 
his last hours. She left the room to write ; but scarcely 



LAST ILLNESS. 289 

was she seated in the study, when he called her back, 
asking with a grieved look, " Why did you leave me 
here an hour alone ?" Be then dropped asleep for a 
moment, and on waking asked if the letters he had just 
dictated had all been written. Thus that day passed, and 
not a moment was found to write for the photographs. 
The very next morning a letter came, and he was greatly 
rejoiced, on opening it, to see the faces of the friends on 
whom his mind had been so fixed. He called for his 
spectacles, and examined the pictures over and over, as 
also the beautiful letter which accompanied them. And 
thus through his sickness his smallest desire was mercifully 
gratified. 

When wakeful and conscious, every breath was spent 
in audible prayer, exhortation, or recitation of favorite 
hymns. The constant endeavor of those around him 
was to keep him quiet, according to the strict orders of 
his physicians ; and he would strive to regard their wishes, 
when reminded of the importance of rest ; but in a mo- 
ment his lips would overflow with the themes with 
which his soul was filled. He would not allow his 
youngest daughter out of his sight, even though two 
others were beside him. On waking he always wanted 
to take her hand, once saying, as he did so, "Some- 
thing tangible, something tangible ! There surely must 
be something tangible left of earth ! " 

One morning, feeling much encouraged about himself, 
he said to this daughter, " Close the door just half 
way, my child." She did so, thinking it had been too 
light or too cool for him. But he motioned her to the 
bedside, and said, " Just kneel here for a moment and 
thank God that I am so much better." He wanted all 
the deacons and brethren who came to inquire for 

25 



290 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

him, to come into his room and pray, but this, of 
course, could not be allowed, when his brain was so 
active, and his other powers so weak. Once, on being 
told who had called, he requested that a list might be 
kept of all who did so, that, when he recovered, he might 
not think any one who had taken this trouble had been 
forgetful of him. 

He called again and again for his desk, and after each 
effort to write, would sink exhausted ; but no sooner was 
it removed, than he had it brought back. When told that 
he would soon be well, and have time enough to attend to 
all these things, he said, u I'm better now than I ever ex- 
pected to be ; and perhaps I may get well, though for so 
many days I've been lying at death's door. If it is the 
Lord's will, I should like to live to do two or three things 
more ; but if not, I feel that everything has conspired to 
make this the best time for me to die ! But I cannot 
rest till these little things are attended to, lest I may not 
recover." 

He then gave his daughter several sums of monev to be 
given to friends who had been kind in his sickness, wishing 
each to select some little keepsake, as he could not go out 
to do it himself. He seemed distressed lest she might not 
make them understand his motive so as to accept the gift. 
When he was told that they promised to do so, to gratify 
him, he manifested more pleasure than at anything during 
his illness. He then requested twenty dollars, the bal- 
ance of a little sum he had promised the young church in 
Allentown, Pa., to be laid aside, with directions for send- 
ing it. He gave his daughter his life policy, regretting 
that it was not for a larger sum, and showed all the 
receipts, and explained the business to her, saying that, 
if he recovered, he should not rest till he increased it ; 



VISIONS OF GLORY. 291 

addincr tenderly, " You see your father thinks of you." 
Thus he continued to converse, in a perfectly rational, 
although somewhat excited manner, until so overcome 
that he slept for hours. 

All business matters for himself or others, were left in 
perfect order. In closing his own, he said, with an expres- 
sion of gratitude, a O Mary, what a mercy to owe no 
man a dollar ! " There w T as no mourning that after so 
long and laborious a life he had laid up no treasures for 
his children ; but gratitude that he had been enabled to deal 
justly with all men. Such is the unselfish spirit of the 
true minister of Christ. 

About five o'clock in the afternoon of Thursday, the 
second week of his illness, the air became very sultry 
and oppressive, and he sank into a state of disturbed ex- 
haustion. His daughter left him from twelve at night 
till five in the morning, with one of his brethren whom 
she knew to be an excellent nurse. About that time he 
became excited, begging to go " into the street, on to 
the Atlantic — anywhere ! " He asked, in pleading tones, 
u Couldn't I go in a carriage, if the horses just walked 
down the avenue?" When reminded that he was so 
w T eak that he sometimes fainted when his head was raised, 
he said, u Oh, yes, you told me that yesterday, and I forgot 
it." It was but a moment before ; but he had lost the 
power of reckoning time. 

When his daughter was fanning him, he suddenly lifted 
his hands, and raising his eyes upward, with a beautiful 
expression, and as if he saw a form invisible to those 
around him, exclaimed, " Whose child is it ? Whose 
child just going to glory ? " And with his tones gradu- 
ally softening, he added, " And its wings just touching 
the border." 



292 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

He was told that he was dreaming, and that it was 
only the fan which had accidentally touched him. " Oh, 
no," he said, " Oh, no, I see it; its wings just touched 
the border. Again he said, as if looking into the unseen 
world, " Col. Fuller, of Connecticut — forty years ago." 

When the physicians came in the morning, they saw a 
great change, and feared effusion of water on the brain ; but 
hoped it might be but the effect of nervous depression after 
the great efforts of the previous day. Stimulants kept up 
the pulse for some hours, when it began gradually to fail. 
He lay in a stupor all that day and the next night, only 
rousing himself to take his nourishment and medicine. 
Once durino; his last night he called, as if missinor the sweet 
presence, " Mother ! mother ! " And again he asked, " Is 
there a harp here ? " He was answered, " There is no 
harp here." But it occurred to his daughter that he might 
mean the little hymn-book, used in his vestry, and that 
was brought. He then asked her to read the hymn, be- 
ginning : — 

" Servant of God, well done." 

There were but three verses in the book, and he asked 
for a copy of Montgomery's poems. This not being at 
hand, he repeated the whole hymn, as if to see whether he 
could apply it to himself. After his death, a copy of it, 
in full, was found in a drawer of papers which had not 
been unlocked for months. 

When his children were by him, he would say repeat- 
edly, " O my son ! O my children ! O my son, my 
son!" 

Toward evening, on Friday, after having lain long in a 
state of stupor, he spoke out, when his daughter asked, 
" What did you say, dear father ? " 



FUNERAL. 29b 

He replied, " I was saying, i Thou, Lord, knowest me 
by my name. ' " 

After this he said no more until just before he died, 
when the word, " Happy, happy ! " was repeated dis- 
tinctly. All clouds had vanished ; and his soul was even 
then basking in the smile of Him, whom, not having seen, 
he had so long loved and honored. 

All the absent children of Mr. Dunbar had been sum- 
moned to him by telegraph. Those nearest, reached his 
bedside in time to see him pass away; but the others 
only came to hear the sad words, u Too late." He fell 
asleep in Jesus on Saturday morning, July 28, 1884, and 
ascended to meet the beloved who had gone before him 
to the rest that remaineth for the people of God. Bitter 
as was the anguish of this parting, it was no small com- 
fort to his children, his church, and his friends, to think 
of the exceeding joy with which he would greet the hun- 
dreds of ransomed souls God had given him while here, 
and join with them in hallelujahs to Him who loved them, 
and who gave himself for them. 

During the three days preceding his burial, the house 
was one scene of weeping and lamentation. Until far into 
the night, members of the church and other personal 
friends gathered around the beloved form for a last, tear- 
ful look ; many, particularly the aged, the afflicted, and the 
poor, feeling that earth could never fill the place now 
made void. The sobs and tears of the lambs of his fold, 
whom he so tenderly loved, were a beautiful tribute to his 
memory. 

His funeral was very largely attended from the Mc- 
Dougal Street Church ; Rev. Howard Osgood, at the re- 
quest of the family, taking charge of the services. A 
just and beautiful eulogy on Mr. Dunbar's character, 

25* 



294 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

was delivered by Rev. W. R. Williams, D. D., than 
whom no city pastor knew him better, they having 
labored side by side for more than thirty years. Drs. 
Somers, Dowling, Anderson, and others, took part in the 
solemn services ; and many other ministering brethren 
mingled their tears with those of the bereaved family and 
church. 

When the remains w r ere placed beneath the pulpit amid 
the tears and sobs of the multitude gathered there, a strange 
lady came forward, and placed in the hands of one of 
the deacons a cross made of his own beloved heather, from 
his native hills, with a request that it might be laid on the 
breast of the sleeper. Well was it that he who loved both 
America and Scotland with the heart of a patriot, should 
rest in the dust of the one, with the flowers of the other 
above his heart. 

From the church the remains were borne to Greenwpod, 
and laid beside hers wdiom he had so sadly missed, in his 
hours of health and happiness, as well as on his dying bed. 
But being dead he yet speaketh, by his long, loving, and 
useful life, as well as by his peaceful death, to his family, 
his church, and to the community in which he was so 
widely known, bidding them all to work while the day 
lasts, for the night cometh in which no man can work. 

At the request of the church, Rev. Dr. Anderson 
preached a memorial sermon a few weeks after his death, 
his theme being, " A Blameless Ministry." He gave a 
sketch of the life and labors of the departed, and showed, 
in a manner highly gratifying to those who loved him, his 
earnestness, ability, and fidelity, from his birth into the 
family of God even to the end, when he fell asleep, with 
his armor bright from service, and his lamp trimmed and 
burning. 



TRIBUTES FROM THE POOR. 295 

It was most touching to witness the many poor, aged, 
and sorrowful, of all nations and colors, who gathered with 
bereaved hearts at his funeral. Each one had a secret 
buried in his heart of the charity he had received from 
that hand now cold in death ; of the gentle, encouraging 
word from those now silent lips. Those nearest the coffin, 
who mourned him more deeply than all others, were 
greatly comforted by the tears of these whom he used to 
call so tenderly, " our poor friends." 







CHAPTER XXIX. 

Letters from Early Friends — Tribute of Rev. Octavius TTiuslow, D. D. — of Rev. How- 
ard Osgood — Mr. W. H. S. J. - Deacon Griffith. 

?NE of Mr. Dunbar's earliest friends in America 

writes to the person who had. informed her of his 

death : — 

" I received your letter last evening, and was 

not a little shocked at the intelligence it contained. 

Dear Mr. Dunbar ! Is it true that I shall never 
meet his kind, genial hand-grasp again ? — never again 
look in his benevolent face ? Alas ! I feel that I have 
sustained a personal bereavement in his death. He was 
one of the very few old friends left me, and now he 
is gone ! Gone to his unspeakable reward, I doubt not. 
But what a loss to his church, to the community in which 
his influence was felt only for good, to his circle of bosom 
friends, and last and most of all, to his sorrowing chil- 
dren !........ 

" Forty-two years have I known and loved our venera- 
ble friend ; and in all that time I have felt no abatement 
of my interest in him, nor seen any inconsistency on his 
part to diminish my respect and esteem. It is no small 
comfort to me now, that I aided in granting him the de- 
sire of his heart, — to revisit his native land last year. I 
recollect saying to him in my letter on that subject, that 
probably, at his time of life, he could hardly hope to re- 
peat the visit, and urged that as a reason why he should 

(296) 



LETTER OF SYMPATHY. 297 

allow himself ample time. Little did I think how near 
his journey's end he was ! I had always imagined he 
would live to a very advanced age ; but he is through 
with his toils, and has already, I trust, received the wel- 
come, c Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou 
into the joy of thy Lord.' 

" How your mother and E. will miss him. The latter 
felt for him almost the affection of a child. As to my 
own feelings, I can hardly analyze them at present. I 
shall feel more alone in the world than ever before. Your 
mother is now all that is left me of ' auld lang syne ; ' 
and I tremble when I think by what a frail tenure that 
last link remains unbroken. N. S." 

Upon hearing of his death, Rev. Dr. Kennard wrote to 
one of the family : " For thirty-three years, he was my 
faithful, sympathizing friend and adviser. I know not the 
man on earth I loved more than I did your honored fa- 
ther ; and when he fell by the death-shaft, I was deeply 
affected. When I had the pleasure of meeting him in our 
May meetings, w r e little thought how short his time was. 
I deeply sympathize with you all in your affliction in 
the loss of a loving parent. But your father's God is 
also your God, and will be your guide even unto death." 

Rev. Octavius Win slow, D. D., of Bath, Eng., was a 
most valued and beloved friend of Mr. Dunbar. For 
years they kept up a correspondence, beautiful both for its 
spirituality and its affection, under the significant names 
of " David " and " Jonathan." 

Dr. Winslow writes : " Mr. Dunbar's history in its 
earlier and more interesting incidents was strangely 
blended with the family recollections of the writer." 
(Here follows a full account of the wreck of the " Hali- 



298 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

fax Packet," when Mr. Dunbar became the guest of Dr. 
Winslow's honored grandmother, Mrs. Grant, on one of 
the Bermudas.) 

u It was no inhospitable or unchristianized shore to 
which the famished missionaries were thus driven. White- 
field, the great apostle of his age, had years before sought 
repose and health amid its citron groves and balmy 
breezes. The traces of his sojourn lived still in the pre- 
cious fruit of souls converted to God through his labors. 
A Christian church had been gathered, which, though 
small and feeble, was holding up the lamp of God's truth 
amid much spiritual darkness and religious formalism. 
Their minister, being about to dedicate a new chapel, 
longed and prayed for the sympathy and aid of his breth- 
ren in the ministry. God heard his prayers and guided 
to them the distressed vessel bearing these missionaries 
just as their sanctuary was ready for the solemn service 
of dedication. God, who comforteth them that are cast 
down, cheered the heart of his servant by the coming of 
Mr. Dunbar and his associates. Mr. Dunbar preached 
one of the dedication sermons from Gen. xxv. 19. 

" Such, briefly, was the event, so signally exhibiting the 
finger of God, from which is dated the commencement 
of an intimacy between the beloved subject of this memoir 
and some dear to me, who now blend their spirits with his 
before the throne of God and the Lamb, in the perfect and 
eternal fellowship of heaven. 

" The pen of a long-existing and warm friendship at- 
tempting the portrait of such a devoted servant of Christ 
as Mr. Dunbar, is, necessarily, in danger of exaggeration. 
The original appears to the eye of the admiring artist so 
beautiful and faultless, that, whatever defects there may 
be in the statue which the chisel moulds, the ideal is the 



LETTER OF SYMPATHY. 299 

only and prevailing conception of the sculptor's mind. 
Mr. Dunbar was no ordinary man. His natural charac- 
ter was itself a study, composed of some of the noblest 
elements, and adorned with some of the rarest traits, of 
humanity. Even apart from divine grace, his natural or- 
ganization would be considered by many, one of the most 
faultless of the species. He was princely great. Possess- 
ing one of the kindest hearts, combined with one of the 
most generous and high-minded souls, sweetened with a 
disposition extremely amiable and winning, it was ' the 
daily beauty of his life ' to increase the happiness and pro- 
mote the well-being, temporal and spiritual, of all who 
were privileged to participate in his friendship and appeal 
to his sympathy. 

" In sketching the Christian character of one possessing 
such native loveliness, it is often as difficult to distinguish 
nature from grace, as to define where the rays of the rain- 
bow commence or terminate. But Mr. Dunbar's relig- 
ious character was an exception to this rule. The grace 
of God in him was so strongly marked, his Christianity 
was so fully developed, his holy and consistent life stood 
out in such bold relief, that, lovely as he w T as by nature, 
that loveliness was eclipsed by the transcendent beauty of 
holiness which clad and adorned him. The Holy Spirit 
moved upon him in early life. He was brought to know 
the plague of his own heart, to feel that he was a sinner, 
and to see that the amiable instincts of nature were not 
holiness ; that the works of righteousness, which his own 
obedience wrought, were, in the sight of the holy and 
heart-searching God, but as ' splendid sins.' Discovering 
the moral leprosy, failing of peace with God by the deeds of 
the law, and with a guilt-burdened conscience and a heart 
bowed with sorrow, the same divine Spirit who convinced 



800 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

him of sin discovered to him the remedy, and led him to 
4 Christ, the end of the law for righteousness to every one 
that believeth.' In faith receiving Christ, he passed from 
the gloomy region of guilt, into the meridian sunshine of 
God's forgiving love. Henceforth, until his sun went 
down, cloudless and glorious, his path was that of the just, 
shining more and more until lost in perfect and eternal 
day. This was the foundation of his remarkable effi- 
ciency and usefulness as a preacher, and of his high 
moral position in the Christian church as a man of God. 
Apart from experimental religion, a renewed mind, a 
Christ-adoring soul, a loving heart and a holy life, the min- 
isterial vocation, the most exalted and useful, as the most 
solemn and appalling with which mortal can be invested, 
becomes rather a badge of shame than the insignia of 
honor ; a calamity, rather than a blessing ; a weight, 
sinking its blinded and unhappy possessor into the deepest 
woe, rather than pinions of light and love floating him to 
the highest pinnacle of glory and bliss. 

" The spirituality of Mr. Dunbar was above the ordinary 
standard. He was remarkably a man of prayer. When 
, he closed the sacred Book, and turned from man to ad- 
dress himself to God, his real forte and true power were 
conspicuous. It was then that he appeared in his high- 
est glory. 

" His varied approaches at the Throne of Grace, — in the 
pulpit, at the church meetings, at the administration of 
baptism, presiding at the Lord's supper, at the ordination ; 
above and beyond all, in the season of affliction, at the 
bed of sickness, at the couch of languor, in the house of 
mourning, — will long be precious and fragrant in the 
memories of thousands wjio will hear that fervent voice 
pouring forth the solemn utterance of a loving, sympa- 



LETTER OF SYMPATHY. 301 

thizing heart no more. Were we to search for the hidden 
spring of his personal piety, ministerial power, consistent 
walk, and his honored reputation as a pastor and Chris- 
tian, we should perhaps find it in his prevailing power 
with God in prayer. 

u It were trite to remark of Mr. Dunbar's ministry, that 
it was decidedly evangelical. And yet in a day when 
many assume the title but as the badge of a party, adopting 
and wearing it apart from that high scriptural order of 
ministerial excellence which the term implies, it is of the 
utmost importance that, in sketching the character of Mr. 
Dunbar, this essential and all-commanding feature should 
assume its distinct and proper position in our portrait. As 
a preacher, he was preeminently evangelical. The gospel 
trumpet, as blown by him, gave forth no vague, uncertain 
sound. " Christ crucified" was the grand theme of his 
ministry, the central object, around which were draped in 
graceful festoons all the great fundamental doctrines, pre- 
cepts, and promises of the gospel. The doctrines of grace 
were precious to his heart, and formed the staple of his 
ministry, imparting a living power to his preaching and to 
his life. I will not say that he preached the doctrines of 
Calvin or of Paul, but emphatically the doctrines of Christ ; 
truths revealed by Christ, taught by Christ, of which Christ 
was the author, substance, the sweetness, and the glory. 
Those divine truths which abase the sinner and which exalt 
the Saviour, which promote the sanctity and comfort of 
the saints, and build up the church of God, were faithfully 
and effectually preached and holily exemplified, and formed 
the beautiful mosaic in the ministry and life of our de- 
parted friend. 

" I cannot conclude this imperfect sketch without a refer- 
ence to a marked feature of Mr. Dunbar's personal Chris- 

26 



302 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

tianity, — his Christian catholicity. No man ever held his 
distinctive principles with firmer tenacity or more uncom- 
promising loyalty to the Lord Jesus Christ, and yet with 
greater breadth of Christian tolerance and love than did 
my beloved friend. 

" Conscious of human infirmities while in the body, — 
and to no eye were they more visible than his own, — he 
is now mingling with the 4 spirits of just men made perfect ; ' 
and, washed from every sin in the atoning blood, he is now, 
6 without a fault,' before the throne of God and of the Lamb. 
Very pleasant hast thou been to me, my brother ! " 

Rev. Howard Osgood, a dear friend and neighboring 
pastor in New York, writes of Mr. Dunbar : — 

" In a time of deep trial God sent to me his beloved 
servant,. Rev. Duncan Dunbar, to refresh me with his 
sympathy, support me with his counsel, and by his exam- 
ple to confirm me in the truth. He had long been conver- 
sant with wounded hearts, and had learned from the Chief 
Physician how to treat them, — an art known to few. 
Himself tried by long experience and comforted of God, he 
was able, by revealing that experience, to comfort those 
who were cast down. He knew what it was to have the 
sufferings of Christ abound in him, and he had received 
in himself the priceless reward of such service, — the over- 
flowing consolation of Christ, and the delight of imparting 
that consolation to others. 

" This may explain the seeming inconsistency between 
his experience and his appearance. No one would ever 
suppose, from any outward sign, that he had been trained 
by bearing heavy crosses ; yet, were the burdens and trials 
he had borne summed up, men who do not know the 
secret of the Lord would be astonished that he ever smiled. 



LETTERS FROM FRIENDS. 303 

Cheer and joy and happiness beamed from every feature. 
His presence was a rebuke to gloom. His life was an 
epistle of God against murmuring. A childlike, harmless 
playfulness of spirit imparted a genial warmth to every 
word. 

" He loved the gospel. It w T as every-day glad tidings 
to him ; for, in his sight, Duncan Dunbar was the greatest 
miracle of God's grace. Every day he found something 
new in it for his soul's nourishment. To him the gospel 
narratives were not merely histories of Christ's walking 
and talking and dealing graciously with men ; but they 
were also prophecies and promises, sealed with the blood 
of the Lamb, — of a similar, daily, personal presence with 
his people in all ages. They were living oracles, — not 
merely the basis of a logical system of divinity, but the 
fountain of the power of endless life. While he held with 
great distinctness and firmness that system of doctrine 
known as Calvinistic, because the Bible taught it to him, 
and he most truly believed it, yet he did not pretend to 
bound God's revelation by man's logic. His faith was 
far higher and deeper than his logic. The truth first en- 
tered his heart and so affected his intellect. His faith led 
and directed his train of reasoning. 

" His w T hole intercourse with his friends gave proof of 
this abiding and ever-deepening love for Christ and his gos- 
pel. He w T as deeply learned in the school of personal ex- 
perience with Christ. ' He wakened his ear to hear as 
the learned,' and He gave him c the tongue of the learned 
to know how to speak a word in season to him that is 
weary.' His learning was profitable both for this life and 
for that which is to come. 

a Under the cross, Jesus had taught him to discern the 
devices of the natural heart, deceitful above all things and 



304 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

incurable. He knew it as the skilful pilot knows the 
reefs and eddies and uncertain currents of some dangerous 
channel. He knew it for himself and for others also. En- 
deared as he was to those who heard him preach the Sav- 
iour he loved, he became knit in indissoluble bonds to 
those to whom he ministered. He was a pastor for the 
heart. Those who drew near to him could not fail to see 
and feel that, while his deepest affections were given to 
Christ, no human sorrow was there in which he did not 
sympathize, no human joy which did not awaken a re- 
sponsive chord in his heart. None gave their hearts more 
unreservedly to Mr. Dunbar than little children ; for chil- 
dren often discern the heart with clearer vision than those 
who are older. 

He was strong in those traits which endear a man to 
his brother ; his sympathy was cordial, earnest, active ; it 
was proved by actions as well as by words. No self-denial 
was too great for him to bear, if he could alleviate a woe, 
or add to another's joy. His affections clasped tightly 
around his friends ; he had no ear for the whisperings of 
suspicion. Faithful and true, his friends always knew 
where to find him. His word was his bond, no matter 
how much unexpected trouble it brought him to fulfil it. 
It could be relied on to the last jot and tittle. 

Generosity was both a necessity and a principle with 
him. The love of Christ, which filled his heart to over- 
flowing, made its way to the world in a channel of gener- 
osity. The last few dollars in his pocket were given as 
cheerfully, and pressed as eagerly upon the poor, as if he 
had a balance of a hundred thousand in the bank. 

The following letter to one of the family, from a gentle- 
man of piety and culture in the Episcopal Church, shows 



LETTERS FROM FRIENDS. 305 

how Mr. Dunbar was esteemed as a man and a minister 
outside of his own denomination : — 

" I cannot refrain from expressing to you the deep feel- 
ings I have experienced in learning of the death of my 
greatly esteemed friend, the Rev. Mr. Dunbar. My rec- 
ollection of him is associated with many of my earliest and 
tenderest memories ; and though I have been privileged 
to meet him only at long intervals, there is no Christian 
minister I have ever known who so spontaneously com- 
manded my highest respect for his faithful standard of du- 
ty, and the hearty earnestness of his devotion to its every 
requirement. I have loved to recur to him as beautifully 
illustrating, in his entireness of sympathy with all his peo- 
ple, my ideal of a true, earnest, and devoted minister of 
Jesus Christ. My earnest sympathies go out for those 
who have known him in the tender relations of home. 
It is a rare blessing to have had the guidance and fellow- 
ship of such a parent, and I can imagine the deep shadow 
that the removal of such a genial, cheerful, hopeful spirit, 
will cast on those who knew him best in these relations. 

" To those of my own relatives, to whom for years he has 
been at once a pastor, a cherished friend, and an almost 
daily counsellor, the blow is indeed one the severity of 
which time will but slightly alleviate. But for himself, how 
much cause for gratitude there was in all the circumstances 
of his life ! Was he not blessed more than usually in his 
Christian and social relations, in his family, in the dura- 
tion as well as in the active and effective usefulness of his 
life, and the cherished memory he bears to all who ever 
knew him ? 

W. H. S. J." 

26* 



306 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

A valued friend in the Budd Street Church, Philadel- 
phia, writes : — 

" The Lord abundantly owned and blessed the truths 
preached in such kindness and love by our dear, departed 
and beloved pastor. The precious seed he sowed was like 
bread cast upon the waters, to be found after many days. 
Very many, who have since then related the dealings of God 
with their souls in their first awakenings, say that they 
were first convinced that they were sinners and felt their 
need of a Saviour, while sitting under Mr. Dunbar's min- 
istry. He did, indeed, preach the truth in sincerity and 
simplicity, and God owned and blessed his work. 

64 Never shall I forget the deep sorrow we felt when 
our faithful friend and pastor resigned his charge of our 
church. We bless the Lord that ever we were privileged 
to become acquainted with him, and that he inclined his 
heart towards us, and gave us a place in his affections.' ' 

The following letter from Trenton, New Jersey, will 
show the esteem in which Mr. Dunbar was held by the 
church over which he presided for a short time there. 

a His stay with us, though short, is remembered by the 
church as comprising a most interesting portion of her his- 
tory. Being ripe in years and experience, and withal a 
man full of the Holy Ghost and good works, the relation- 
ship of near kindred manifested itself between him and 
the elder brethren. There was great similarity of views 
between them, and they reposed implicit confidence in his 
judgment in matters of church polity and other subjects 
relating to the progress of the Redeemer's kingdom. 
This affinity was never more apparent than in Mr. Dun- 
bar's social intercourse with the class alluded to, most of 
whom have now joined company with him in the better 
land. Our church has been blessed with other good pas- 



LETTERS FROM FRIENDS. 307 

tors, younger in years, and on this account it may truly be 
said that none of them during the same length of time 
ever had so great an influence. 

" With the younger portion of the church, the feeling 
towards Mr. Dunbar was of a different character. They 
did not consider themselves his immediate associates, as did 
the older members of the family. They regarded him as 
a father, and cherished an earnest desire to follow whither 
he might lead the way ; and from trustworthy data in our 
possession, that following ever was to know the Lord. It 
is u most gratifying fact, that not one of this class whom 
it was his privilege to lead to the Saviour, has become 
weary of the journey, or turned from God, — a convincing 
proof of the thoroughness of his teaching, and the great 
caution he displayed in encouraging applicants for admis- 
sion to the church. He aimed to have all such thoroughly 
indoctrinated in the great truths and principles which form 
the basis of Christian belief and character. 

" But perhaps with none were these feelings of .ove 
and attachment stronger than with the Sunday-school 
children ; and groups of them gathering around the min- 
ister was no uncommon sight. On one such occasion, 
1 distinctly remember, as he stood by the stove in our 
quaint old lecture-room, with many a bright eye throw- 
ing back the reflection of his cheerful, animated face, Mr. 
Dunbar, in giving them one of his pleasant greetings, sud- 
denly straightened himself up, and, with great ardor, 
preached them a pithy discourse on church extension, say- 
ing, ' I tell you, girls and boys, the end of this old build- 
ing has got to burst out, or a new one push it out of the 
way altogether.' Sure enough, it was but a little while 
and the ; pushing-out-of-the-way ' process was enacted ; 
and now, our beautiful lecture and Sunday-school rooms 



308 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

occupy the site, and to this day the young folks (children 
at that time) make pleasant allusions to Mr. Dunbar's ser- 
mon by the old stove. 

" During Brother Dunbar's sojourn with us, we had none 
of those large in-gatherings of souls with which, at times, 
God deigns to refresh his church ; but we had the Word 
preached with power and in demonstration of the Holy 
Spirit. The church grew in grace and in the knowledge of 
our blessed Saviour ; the understanding of the people was 
enlightened, and their judgment convinced. The seed he 
sowed was well selected and good ; and, divining, perhaps, 
that the great Husbandman might not very long permit 
him to hold the sower's commission in this part of the great 
field, he would, at times, with great pathos and impressive- 
ness, call attention to the sad fact that sinners seemed to 
be tardy in accepting of the Crucified, assigning as a reason, 
that, perhaps, he was not faithful enough to the charge 
committed to his hands. And then, under the influence 
of considerable emotion, as though looking back over the 
way in which God had brought him and gathering 
encouragement from the retrospect, he would give his 
audience the benefit of his thoughts, the burden of which 
seems to be this : that although he might not be reaper, 
some servant of God would. The closing up of the last 
sermon that he ever preached in the pulpit of the Baptist 

Church of T was in these words (and spoken, too, 

with deep emotion) : ' Finally, dear brethren and sisters, 
I rejoice that the time is soon coming, when both sower 
and reaper shall meet together, in the kingdom of God.' 

" How prophetically significant and true ! Duncan 
Dunbar and Lewis Smith are now at home in the kingdom 
of God. The sower and the reaper have met, and are rest- 
ing from their labors. During the short period he was 



REVIEW. 309 

our pastor, he buried with Christ in baptism thirteen 
joyful converts, and welcomed to the church by letter, 
from other churches, fifteen. 

" I should fail to do justice to the sainted man, if I omitted 
to mention his visitation of the flock. It was, for the most 
part, regular and systematic ; and not to see his familiar 
face, at specified times, was a disappointment. The kind- 
ness of heart and the sympathetic tenderness evinced on 
such occasions won for him among us the appellation of 
the ' Good Shepherd ; ' and those of his flock who sur- 
vive him accord to him the original distinction, of having 
c no equal, in this respect, in all of the list of good pastors 
that we, as a church, have been favored with.' ' 



In reviewing the life of this good minister of Jesus 
Christ, none can fail to acknowledge his unselfish devo- 
tion to the interests, temporal and spiritual, of his fel- 
low-creatures. Much of this was, no doubt, the result 
of natural generosity and sympathy ; when these were 
sanctified to God they became a great power, constrain- 
ing him to labor in season, and out of season, for friend 
and foe. 

Those who loved Mr. Dunbar most, — who sat at his 
table, and dwelt beneath his roof, — do not regard him 
faultless. Some prudent persons pronounced him too im- 
pulsive in his sympathies, and prodigal in his charities. 
Others considered him stern in his views of church disci- 
pline, and unduly tenacious of the doctrines of grace, and 
of the ordinances and polity of his church. To his views 
of truth and convictions of duty he held fast, and for them 
he plead with a persistency peculiar to his nation, and not 
always agreeable to those who differed from him. These 
were what would have been called by some, Mr. Dunbar's 



310 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 

frailties : but all must admit that if not virtues thev surelv 
a leaned to virtue's side." 

And even had there been very marked imperfections in 
the Christian character we have striven to delineate, it 
would avail little to record them in these pages. Our ob- 
ject has been to present traits worthy of emulation and to 
glorify God's grace, by showing how much can be accom- 
plished by one life consecrated to his service. 

The Christian's life, viewed in its results, never ends ; 
" his works do follow him ; " like good seed yielding fruit 
as the years roll on until the full harvest shall be gathered 
in on high. Mr. Dunbar's own words, in regard to a 
sainted friend, " His prayers are all ended, but not all an- 
swered," were prophetic of his own. When nature was 
sinking, and those whose love would fain have detained 
him here, plead with him to remain calm and try to 
rest, his soul was pressed with anguish for the impenitent. 
When the hand that never shrunk from labor was palsied 
in death, he dictated a letter to a young and feeble church, 
and enclosed therein a gift, — almost from the borders of 
heaven. It was forwarded after his burial, and received 
by that people as a voice from the eternal world. From 
his death-bed, as well as from his pulpit, he had preached 
Christ ; and his work of love was rewarded. This last 
sermon was the means of salvation to several souls, and 
thus was his heart's desire granted, " to die with his har- 
ness on." 

Mr. Dunbar left six daughters, a son, and a nephew, — 
who was as one of his children, — twenty-three grand- 
children, and four great-grandchildren. Three of his 
sons-in-law and a grandson (in-law,) are toiling in the 
profession he loved and honored, and two grandsons are 
just putting on their armor for the same glorious work. 



REVIEW. 311 

Will not those who loved this dear, departed servant of 
God pray that his mantle may rest upon these, and that 
their' s may also be acknowledged in the final day as u an 
earnest ministry." 



512 



DUNCAN DUNBAR. 



" Servant of God, well done ! 
Rest from thy loved employ ; 
The battle fought, the vict'ry won, — 
Enter thy Master's joy. 

" The voice at midnight came ; 
He started up to hear ; 
A mortal arrow pierced his frame, — 
He fell, but felt no fear. 

" At midnight came the cry, 
* To meet thy God prepare ! ' 
He woke, and caught his Captain's eye ; 
Then, strong in faith and prayer, 

" His spirit, with a bound, 

Left its encnmb'ring clay ; — 
His teut, at sunrise on the ground, 
A darkened ruin lay. 

" The pains of death are past ; 
Labor and sorrow cease ; 
And life's long warfare closed at last, 
His soul is found in peace. 



" Soldier of Christ, well done ! 
Praise be thy new employ ; 
And, while eternal ages run, 
Rest in thy Saviour's joy." 



